Angel's Trumpet
by PrunusPadus
Summary: Illegal potion ingredients, a strapping young DADA teacher, and Severus Snape. Hermione Granger is the new mediwitch at Hogwarts. EWE HGSS
1. Red Rose of Summer

**A/N**

 **I'm not sure if I should follow through with this idea, least of all now when I'm very much dedicated to 'The Golden Chain', but it just wouldn't leave me alone. Let me know what you think?**

* * *

 **Red Rose of Summer**

There had been no one around for so many weeks that the echoing sound of footsteps in the deserted Dungeon made the skin on his neck tingle.

Autumn was nigh, but Hogwarts had yet to fall victim to the students' brawls, and even the teachers were few and far between. Severus Snape had thought he was alone, as he found himself most often.

But this time he was wrong. Despite his initial confusion, he resisted the old urge to draw arms, and let his wand rest peaceably in his pocket. He found it easier these days. Once upon a time, he would have slipped into a dark nook and waited for his pursuer to fall victim to a sharp impediment jinx, but he was not that person any longer.

Besides, the sound was that of tiny feet. They skipped along in his wake with innocent frankness, and so he stopped and turned around.

His pursuer caught up to him and smiled bravely with a missing tooth. It was a child – a small girl with fire in her hair. She carried the scent of sunlight and grass.

He allowed the tension to bleed out of his posture. The time of lords and snakes was long gone. It would do him good to remember.

"Hello there."

She smiled brighter still. "Good afternoon," she said precociously. "I know who you are."

A Gryffindor then, in a few short years. He noticed she was dressed like a muggle. "Oh, do you now?"

"Yes." She looked up at him with light brown eyes. "My Uncle Harry has told me lots about you."

"Uncle Harry, is it?" Severus frowned. "And did he really?"

"He did." Her bright mood was not to be quelled. She started counting off her hand. "For one," she said, holding up her index finger, "he told me you dressed in all black. Then-" She raised her middle one, "he told me you were his teacher and that you were really, really strict. And then-" She struggled with the third, "he said your teeth were yellow." She peeked at his mouth curiously, giving up on the tally. "And lots of other things that I can't remember now."

Severus grunted. He suspected her memory was somewhat selective. "That uncle of yours sure is a-"

"Oh!" she interrupted. "He told me you had greasy hair as well." She grinned proudly. "I recognised you right away."

He shook his head, letting his gaze drift over her stained knees and the snot beneath her nose. She reminded him of someone.

"And you look scruffy, Miss." He bent to offer her a handkerchief. "And you have quite the big mouth."

She watched him, fascinated. "Your nose is big, too." She looked like she wanted to reach out and touch it, second-guessing herself at the last minute. "And it's all bent…"

Severus straightened. "So you're here with Uncle Harry then?" He glanced down the corridor.

"No." She wiped her face haphazardly. "Of course not. He's out chasing villains."

"Right," he said with a subtle sigh. "Then where is Mum and Dad?"

"Daddy is away on Quidditch." She thought for a moment. "But I wouldn't be with him even if he was home. This is Mum-week."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Mum-week, hm?"

"Yes." She smiled.

"Take me to your Mum then," he said. "You shouldn't be down here alone. This castle likes to trick small dunderheads like you."

"I already know," she said, handing the dirty handkerchief back at him before skipping off. "Mum said so, too. But I'm not small."

Severus followed at a more sedate pace. He had to raise his voice slightly as she had already covered some ground. An energetic thing, she was. And chatty. "What's your name then, little girl?"

She turned her head in indignation, tripping over a loose stone. "I said I'm not small!"

"Watch it." He reached out an arm to steady her, but she brushed him off.

"I'm already five-and-a-half. And my name is Rose."

She must belong to one of the new staff. There had been two retirement parties that spring, something that had happened with increasing frequency of late, dividing the teachers into two segments.

There were the old and ageing ones. Those who had been there during the war and haunted the hallways as bleak imprints of their former selves. They were like ghosts now, grey and translucent, many of them prone to nerves and other undignified ailments.

He included himself in this group. He had been lucky to get his old position back, and would be fine as long as he lived a quiet and stress-free life. Which he did in a way, in this solitary Dungeon of his.

Then there were the replacements. Young, inspired, and dedicated to the profession, they took over when the old ones caved. There would be one after him as well, in not too many years. He only needed to settle his affairs.

"How old are _you_ then?"

The girl was jumping along ahead of him, making a game out of avoiding the cracks between the tiles.

"I'm fifty," he grumbled. "And a half."

"You're _old_ ," she said in awe. "I don't have to ask your name though, because I already know it."

"Yes. You said as much."

She continued as though she had not heard him. "It's Sev'rus. Albus got his second name from you."

"Aren't you the know-it-all?" They had reached the Entrance Hall, and he grasped her shoulder to steer her clear of the second-to-last step, which was inclined to swallow one's foot to the ankle.

"Is it true?" she asked out of nowhere.

He released her when she leapt across the tricky spot with ease. "What is?"

"That you were bitten by a snake?"

"Yes," he said, relieved. He had almost been afraid she was going to ask about his Death Eater days.

"Do you have a scar as well?"

She was watching him with wide eyes. He nodded, flustered to be dedicated such rapt attention. If only his students would pay him the same regard…

The girl stretched her neck. "Can I see it?"

"Not now, child." She had lead him to the Infirmary and he leaned over her to push open the heavy door. "Is this where you belong?"

"Yes." She ducked beneath his arm, sprinting ahead. "Mum!"

A woman was inside, and he was suddenly able to place this new girl.

Because he remembered another one. One with busy hair and a need to prove herself that rivalled most of his Slytherins, back when he was Head of House.

But that girl was gone, and Granger was all grown now. And how quickly the years had gone by.

* * *

Hermione straightened when she heard Rose call, quickly jotting down a few notes in the margin of a thick paper folder. Bookkeeping was an unpleasant task, especially when the numbers didn't add up. But it was part of her new job and she needed it done before the start of term. Quidditch season was merely weeks away and she expected her days would soon become busy.

She put the paperwork down and stood. She would have to file an inquiry about the lethal potion ingredients with the Headmaster. But that could wait until morning. She already suffered a headache.

"Off!" She staggered when the red tornado that was her only child hit her side like a bludger. "Rose, watch it!"

She peeled her daughter's hands off her arm to straighten the ink bottle that threatened to spill. _Scourgify_ could make a real mess out of the financial records and it wouldn't do to foul them up already in her first week.

Only when crisis was no longer imminent did she become aware of the third person in the room. "Oh…" She surreptitiously untangled a quill from her hair. "Professor Snape?"

The man was standing in the doorway, watching them with a blank expression.

"Did she disturb you?" She waved in Rose's direction. "I'm sorry if…"

Rose groaned. "Don't mind Mum, Severus," she told the Potion's Master. "She always thinks I'm harassing people. But I wasn't, was I?"

"Of course not." Snape smiled at Rose, if only with his eyes. The gesture was so fleeting that a heartbeat later, Hermione thought she might have imagined it. "We ran into each other in the corridor, that's all, Miss…" He faltered.

Hermione expertly concealed her surprise at their familiarity. Her daughter was sociable to a fault, and this here was cited evidence. "Please," she said, "it's Hermione. I'm taking over after Poppy."

"Hermione, then." He glanced at Rose. "And Severus."

"Mum?" asked Rose. "Can I visit Sev'rus tomorrow?" She looked up with doe eyes. "He lives in the Dungeon, and there are windows to the Black Lake down there… Please…?"

Hermione looked up at the man apologetically, searching for signs of annoyance. To her surprise, there seemed to be none.

"Oh alright then," she said, dragging the words a bit, "but only if he says you can."

"It's fine," said Snape, and Rose shone.

It seemed her daughter had found herself a new friend.


	2. Cavan Hern

A/N

I'll update The Golden Chain next, I promise.

* * *

The Infirmary smelled of starched sheets and medicines. The arched windows facing the school grounds made the space feel bright and airy; patches of the granite stone floor lit up and warmed by the afternoon sun. Hermione was already starting to feel at home.

She pulled the desk chair over to perch on top of it precariously. The tiny cubicle that was the Matron's office was an almost perfect square, and the tightness of space meant that the bookcases had to be extended upwards. It suited her short frame rather poorly.

"Do you need a hand with those?"

The voice nearly startled her into dropping the thick book of medical spells she was trying to fit into the overstuffed shelf.

"Oh, hello…" She gave them a final shove before turning, grimacing when the bookcase creaked threateningly. When she jumped down from the chair, a pair of blue eyes greeted her.

"I didn't mean to startle you," said a man in fitted robes. He was tall, with the hint of a stubble on his cheeks, and dark, wavy hair in deliberate disarray. He extended a hand. "The name is Cavan," he said. "You asked for me?"

"Oh, right." She grasped it, taking in the man she knew to be head of Slytherin House. For some odd reason she had not expected someone quite as… dashing. "Professor Hern," she said, "it's a pleasure. I'm the mediwitch. And you're the defence professor, right?"

"That's me." He smiled winningly.

"Wonderful." She extended a hand towards her guest chair. "Have a seat, Professor."

"Please," he said, "the name is Cavan, but my friends just call me Cav. I'm not yet used to this Professor thing." He chuckled. "It makes me feel a bit old."

"Really?" She appraised him dubiously. He surely couldn't be much older than her.

"But thank you." He sat, still watching her attentively. "I'm not sure I can help you if you wanted to discuss one of the students though," he said, "I'm new here as of last week."

"No problem." She smiled as well; glad he was the easy-going type. "And no, it's not. It's about you, in fact."

"Me?" he asked, straightening a little. "You're making me nervous now, Matron."

"Call me Hermione." She sat down too, choosing the seat across from him so that her small desk was between them. Her office was really too tiny for meetings of any kind.

"There's nothing to be nervous about though," she reassured him. "I have a question for you, that's all. You see, I'm new here as well, and I've been having problems with the bookkeeping." She added ruefully, "I imagine I'll be quite busy once the eleven-year-olds starts waving brand new wands around here, so I'd like to get it sorted as soon as possible."

"Right." He winced. "And I bet a fair few of those accidents will be in my class..."

There was a dimple in his left cheek. She supposed he was the kind of man she might have been attracted to as a schoolgirl. Luckily though, he seemed nowhere near as conceited as Gilderoy Lockhart.

"I don't know about that," she said with a shrug. "If I remember my own schooldays correctly, Potions was the subject with the most mishaps." She rolled her eyes. "That and flying, of course."

Hern chuckled. "I'll be substituting the flying lessons from mid-October," he said. "I guess we'll be seeing a lot to each other then."

He seemed pleased with that and she suddenly found herself a little flustered. "Who taught Defence before you then?" she asked hastily.

Hern frowned, his eyes drawing upwards and to the left. "I'm told it was shared between Professors, ah…" He thought for a moment. "Vector and Snape, I believe. But I guess they both retired..."

"Oh, Professor Snape is still here," she said. "He teaches potions."

"Right."

His indifference puzzled her slightly. Most people knew who Professor…Severus was, if only as the Death Eater that betrayed Voldemort.

"Say," she asked, "you did not attend Hogwarts, did you? I can't recall having seen you here…?"

"No, no," he said. "I grew up abroad. My mother is half-French."

Well, that would explain it. After Harry had saved Snape in the Shrieking Shack, he had worked very hard to get him pardoned. But still, many people associated him strongly with the dark side and she knew that his comeback to teaching had been turbulent to say the least. It was the reason why Filius Flitwick was Headmaster now, and not he.

But it seemed that teaching potions suited him better now than it had when she was a girl, as he both looked and acted more relaxed. She had picked up Rose in the Library the previous day, where she had found them together in a small nook by the windows and she had been entirely baffled to discover that he was reading aloud to her from –of all things- Winnie-the-Pooh.

He had even been wearing reading glasses, and although his face carried a somewhat unhealthy pallor, he looked almost the same as before, apart from some grey in his hair and a few more lines on his face. To her surprise, most of them were around the corner of his eyes and they softened his appearance in a way she found was rather pleasing…

"So what did you want to ask about?"

Hern's voice brought her back to the present. "Sorry," she said, "I got distracted."

"No problem." He smiled with even teeth. "Is this about the Grindylows again? Because I ordered them through the Herbology budget and Longbottom didn't seem pleased when they were delivered to Greenhouse Four."

Hermione internally shuddered. The Hogwarts accounting system was apparently one huge mess and it rubbed her inner neat freak very much the wrong way. No wonder she was having difficulties.

"No," she said. "This is another reposting." She pulled over the thick folder from where she had left it on the corner of the table and pointed out a few of the unaccounted numbers.

"Angel's trumpet," muttered Hern. "That's expensive. What are they for?"

"I have no idea." Hermione shook her head. " _Encyclopaedia Herba_ lists it as a class A toxin. I assumed they were for potions, but Filius informed me that both Professors Longbottom and Snape denies having anything to do with it. I'm starting to suspect that someone's been using school funds to…" She waved an arm around haplessly. "Well, I have no idea what the point would be. They are not used in any potions I'm familiar with, and I know of a fair few."

"I don't know either," said Hern. "Did you ask the supplier?"

"That's just the thing." She indicated an empty slot in the form. "They aren't listed. Look, Professor, ah…" She smiled awkwardly. "Sorry. _Cavan_. I know I shouldn't bother you with this now, just when term is about to start and I know you must be terribly busy, but Filius suggested I mention it to you. He said you had a background in the Auror force, and that you might have a suggestion as to what I should do next."

"He's right about that…" Hern scratched his hair. "I suppose I could research it for you, it should be easy enough. Just don't expect an immediate result." He pulled the folder to him. "Mind if I borrow this?"

"Of course," Hermione said. "And really, take the time you need. It's awfully kind of you to help."

"Don't worry," he said, looking up at her. "It's my pleasure. And in any case, it gives me an excuse to brush up with a few of my contacts at the French Ministry."

He kept on watching her, seeming for the first time a little hesitant. "Listen," he said, "Longbottom invited me to Hogsmeade next Saturday. You know, for a few drinks before the start of term. Sinistra and Poe will be there as well, and maybe even Flitwick. Perhaps you'd like to join us?"

"Oh." Hermione faltered. She rarely went out these days and had never really been much of a party animal. But it seemed like a good opportunity to get friendly with her colleagues and it _was_ nice of him to ask. "I'll think about it," she said. "Thanks for inviting me, but I'd need someone to babysit my daughter in that case, and I don't feel like I've quite settled in yet…"

"Oh," he said, sounding mildly disappointed. "You have a daughter?"

"Yes." She felt her lip pull up at the thought of her child. "Rose. She's five and a right chatterbox. I'm surprised you haven't met her yet."

"I'll look forward to that then." Hern stood, stretching a pair of long legs. "Well, I'll let you know about Saturday. It'll probably be sometime after dinner."

"Sounds good." She nodded. "And thanks. I'll be seeing you around then."

The smile was back. "Yeah," he said. "Sure, Hermione."

* * *

"And then I visited Professor Trelawney in the tower. Her office smells funny and she has a huge glass marble there and a black, grumpy cat." Rose giggled. "It reminds me of you."

"Does it now?" Severus put his knife down to look at her. She had taken supremacy of his brown leather armchair, small feet tucked up beneath her and the hem of his coat draped over her knees. Her hair was in a tidy plait today, the light from the crackling fire behind her making it glow orange, and she had brought along a soft-looking, furry teddy. "Surely, I'm not that bad?"

"You're not at all bad," she said artlessly. "And the cat is very pretty. His name is Mint."

Severus returned to the dicing, hiding a small smile behind his hair. Rose, he had learned, was an affectionate soul and words of endearment seemed to come just as easy to her as unbridled honesty. For some old reason it made him feel inclined to spend time with her. She was much less prejudiced towards him than most and Granger must have treaded gently when speaking of him, however curious that was.

"Why don't you ever talk while you're brewing?"

"Hm." He shifted a little to shake out his left arm, which still tended to ache when he grew tired. The light from the window to the Black Lake made his pale hand look almost blue. "I'm listening to you."

"Oh." She seemed puzzled. "Who talks to you when I'm not here?"

"No one," he said, "I'm usually by myself."

He couldn't see her face with his back turned to her, but a hint of sadness had crept into her tone. "Don't you get lonely?"

"No," he said, "I'm used to that. Besides, when the students arrive, there will be people everywhere."

It wasn't exactly a lie. But although he'd long since given up on the hope that there was someone out there that could be something special to him, he couldn't deny that he sometimes wished he had someone around to call his friend.

"Well you don't have to be alone anymore," said Rose brightly, "I'm here now."

He wiped his hands on a rug and walked around his circular desk. "Yes you are," he said, opening one of the creaky drawers and pulling out a packet of biscuits. "And I couldn't wish for better company."

He sat in the chair next to hers and heated an old cup with his wand, inhaling deeply when the smell of tealeaves mixed with that of dust and potion ingredients. "I need a break now. You want one of these?"

"They are my favourites," she said, fumbling eagerly with the crunching packet. "Mum always says they're bad for my teeth, but she says that about almost everything. Her parents used to be dentists."

"I know," said Severus, resigning himself to a small sprinkle of sugar rather than his usual spoonful. "And I suppose she's right."

Rose was biting tiny pieces off the edge of her biscuit as though she wanted it to last as long as possible. "What are you making?" she asked with a glance at his workspace, "and why am I not allowed to touch it?"

"That…" Severus faltered for a moment. "It's a potion that's supposed to cure… sick people," he said. "And you should never go near someone's cauldron unless there's an adult with you. They can blow up and some of the ingredients can be dangerous unless you know what you're doing."

"But _you_ know that," she said confidently. "Mum told me you're a Potions Master, and that means you can brew almost anything."

For some reason, the words made him inexplicably pleased. "Yes," he said. "I can brew many things. And when you're older, you can do so as well."

"Will you teach me?" She looked hopeful, the hunger for knowledge lighting up her eyes.

"Perhaps…" He hesitated, feeling reluctant to disappoint her. "When you start Hogwarts, you'll learn," he said. "Be it from me or someone else…"

He sipped his hot tea, frowning when his gaze strayed over the numerous flasks and book piles that littered the floor. He hadn't tidied for a while and cobwebs and dust had started to gather on top of them and on the rickety stack of spare cauldrons he kept in a corner. He sighed.

"Mum works with curing sick people as well," said Rose. "She says everyone should try to make things better for each other. When I scrubbed my knee and started bleeding, she just put her wand on it and it was all better." She looked at him expectantly. "Is that why you're a Potions Master too?"

"Ah…" Severus leaned back in his chair, slightly uncomfortable under her penetrating stare. He could not tell a five-year old that he had sold his soul to the first and best evil megalomaniac who crossed his path, but he supposed he should be at least somewhat honest with her. "I must admit that was probably not the reason," he said. "Not everyone can be as noble as your mother."

Rose frowned. "Why did you want to do it then?"

"I was good at it," he said. "And I suppose I wanted to be even better. I liked brewing a lot, even when I was a boy."

"Did you?" She watched him attentively. "How old? Like me?"

Severus traced the rim of his cup. It had small chips on it in places and the rough skin on his thumb caught on the uneven edge. "Maybe I was a little bigger than you," he said, "but not much… My mother knew how to make potions. She was a witch as well, and sometimes, when my father was… away, she would take me to Diagon Alley to get ingredients."

He turned his eyes to the fireplace, lost in the memory. "The apothecary is still the same today," he told her. "Slug and Jiggers, although they both died before you were born."

"Yes," said Rose. "I've been there too."

"I found it utterly fascinating," he said. "Mother would buy leech juice and frog brain, and drops of morning dew inside little flagons that were made out of green glass..." He turned back to her. "She only owned one pewter cauldron, but she actually preferred to brew in a regular kettle." He chuckled quietly. "She liked to do things her own way, my mother. Always made Pepper-up with chili instead of fire seeds…"

"Was she the one to teach you?" Rose had edged forward on her seat, bright brown eyes glinting in the candlelight from the wall sconce.

"Sometimes she'd let me watch," he said. "She'd put a red apron on and let me sit on the kitchen counter and say 'Sev, now you sit very still and you might just learn something that can change your life'. Then she didn't say another word until she was done."

"And did it?" asked Rose.

He shook his head, confused. "What?"

"Change you life?"

"Yes," he said, closing his eyes for a moment. "Yes, it did. Just not in the way I had expected…"

"Mum knows how to make potions as well," said Rose. "When I grow up, I want to be just as good as you, and make potions that can cure anything."

"I'm sure you will," he said. "And you'll be better than I ever was."

* * *

She had quickly figured out that the easiest way to locate Rose was simply to ask Peeves. The nosy poltergeist had a firm grasp on Hogwarts' pulse, and he seemed to take delight in telling her that 'the little spitfire' was in the Dungeon with the 'black bat'.

She picked her way down there, cautious of hidden trick steps, and allowed old memories to wash over her as she went. She walked by the painting that led into the Kitchens if you tickled one of the pears, and smiled to herself when she passed Snape's storeroom. His office was next to that, just beside the Potions Classroom they had used when she was a child.

The door was slightly ajar, and she crept inside silently, watching as Snape bent over Rose to point at something on the table.

He wore the same spectacles she had seen him wear the day before and she was almost disappointed when he quickly pulled them off his face and hid them in a pocket.

"Oh," he said, "Miss… Hermione."

"Hello," she said, catching Rose as she jumped up for a hug. "What are you two up to?"

"We're making potions," said Rose proudly. Her sweater was pulled up to her elbows and the braid Hermione had worked so hard on this morning was all mussed up and frizzy.

"Are you really?" Hermione's eyes widened as she took in the clutter on Snape's work desk. There was a small cauldron there, with an unrecognisable goo inside, including several pieces of what must have been leftover from his brewing. She caught sight of a few weevils without the eyes, and a disembodied newt tail, and was that a… biscuit?

"It's to make people feel better," said Rose. "And comfort them when they are sad." Hermione frowned at her in question.

"Rose made a 'hug balm'," explained Severus. "Her very own creation." He looked at her warily. "There's nothing dangerous in there..."

Hermione stifled a chuckle. "I'm sure it's a potent brew," she said, still amazed at how much softer he was. Never could she have imagined the grumpy teacher of her schooldays allowing a five-year old to play potions all over his office.

Snape relaxed a little. "Your girl is a diligent student," he said. "She resembles you a lot."

She raised her eyebrows in mock-horror and he was quick to add, "I meant that as a compliment."

Hermione couldn't contain a small snort at that, because surely, Snape had loathed her as a student, but then he surprised her by looking almost guilty. "I never much gave you the credit you deserved back then," he muttered with a small grimace, "it was not a happy time for me."

"Of course." She gave an understanding smile, more than willing to offer him a second chance. "I'm merely teasing you, Severus. That was all a long time ago."

"Alright." He seemed relieved that she had let him off the hook. "That's good to know…"

She wondered if it must have been hard for him, picking his way back towards a normal life when the entire wizarding Britain had reason to hold him hostage for his past deeds. She knew that many people thought he should have been sent to Azkaban despite his effort in the war, and even more of them had objected when he resumed his post at Hogwarts. Whatever one might say about him, he had not lived an easy life. She glanced down at his left arm. Did he still have Voldemort's mark there, etched into his skin…?

Rose pulled at her sleeve, breaking her out of her thoughts. "Mum," she said, "I'm hungry. What's for supper?"

Hermione smiled down at her. "Leftovers from yesterday. Are you coming?"

"Just a moment." Rose wriggled out of her arms and skipped over to the table.

"It's for you," she said as she picked the tiny cauldron up and offered it to Snape. "For when you're sad and I'm not here."

"For me?" Snape took the cauldron in both hands, looking stunned. "That's very kind of you, Rose… Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said brightly. "Just don't use it all at once. We're out of biscuits."

Snape seemed incapable of further speech so Hermione said goodbye and took Rose's hand to lead her out into the hall.

"Why did you do that?" she asked when they were out of earshot. "I think you made him a little uncomfortable, Rose. Maybe you should have given that to Professor Flitwick instead…"

Rose looked up at her, exasperated. "Don't be silly Mum," she said. "Sev'rus needs it more."

As they made their way through the chilly Dungeon corridors, Hermione thought that maybe Rose was right.


	3. The Party

The potion had taken a lot of his time lately and it wasn't until Friday afternoon he managed to ready everything else that needed doing before the start of term. The last thing on his list had been to restock the stores of cough remedy, which was why he found himself pushing open the infirmary doors with his shoulder, careful so as not to jostle the crate of amber flagons in his hands.

He looked around in the hope of seeing Rose, but the room was empty save for a few cartons of neatly folded white sheets.

He quashed the unbidden stab of disappointment and shook his head at himself. That girl… She made him feel frighteningly vulnerable, but she had a way of touching his heart and because of that, he was not allowed to push her away as was his usual reflex.

 _I must be going soft in the head_ , he thought, but she had woken something in him. Something that had been buried so deeply that he hadn't even known it existed until she came, skipping along the cold Dungeon floor. He couldn't quite name it, but it was primitive. Something fundamental that was both sweet and dangerous at the same time, and it drew him towards her like a moth to the flame.

He walked down the aisle towards the end. Granger was in her office, going through the student's files and she looked up at him with a smile when he gave the doorframe a light knock.

"Severus," she said, seeming genuinely pleased to see him. "How are you?"

"I'm alright." He nodded at her desk. "Am I interrupting?"

She put the folder down, waving him inside. "Not at all."

He took in her warm eyes and wild hair, quenching a smile when he noticed the quill in it, still dripping with ink. The office was tiny and as he towered over her, all he could think about was that he'd never been this close to her before. She wore a soft-looking jumper, the kind that touched her feminine body in all the right places and it made him feel slightly self-conscious for not having bothered to shower after his most recent bout of brewing. Surely, he must look a fright.

"What's this?" Oblivious, she eyed the crate in his hands curiously.

"Cough Potion," he said, putting it down on her desk. "I'm sorry I'm late with it, but I only managed to finish this afternoon."

"Oh," she said, "that's quite alright." She picked up a flagon with slim fingers, holding it up to the light. "What's the dose?"

"I've altered the recipe to a slightly smaller than adult body weight," he said. "So there's no need to dilute it. And I've put some scurvy grass in there so you need to take that into account when you scan for allergies…"

He noticed a book on her desk he'd never seen before. It was about rare blood diseases in children and he picked it up to look through the table of contents.

"Right." He felt her eyes on him. "Is it effective?"

"Poppy seemed to prefer it that way," he said distractedly. "It should help if the infection is bacterial. Just remember that if you need some for one of the staff, it's better that I make the concentrated dose." He looked up at her. "Would you like me to do it right away?"

"That's quite alright, Severus." She smiled kindly. "I trust we can deal with that if needs must?"

"Very well," he said, "just let me know."

Her book didn't contain any of the information he needed, which was as expected. He put it back down on her desk, meaning to leave, but Hermione stopped him by rising from her chair and coming around to his side.

"Listen… Severus," she said, suddenly sounding a little apprehensive. "I know this might impose on our…" She waved an arm around airily, "…acquaintance, but I find myself in dire need of a new dress." She rolled her eyes. "You know, for tomorrow night."

He raised his eyebrows a little, clueless as to where she was going with this, and she blushed, a delicate pink colouring the area high on her cheeks where her freckles were.

That right there was his favourite part of her face, he decided. It was as though summer had written across her nose its own little poem about sunshine and warmth. A subtle reminder for those who spent too much time indoors. They were on Rose's cheeks as well. At first, he'd thought they must come from the father –a Weasley if memory served, and they had freckles everywhere- but now he could see that they were a slightly darker shade, and all Granger, and the discovery made him feel oddly pleased.

She must have mistaken his contemplation for indifference, because she started to fidget.

"Well, I noticed one in Hogsmeade the other day," she said ruefully, "one that I really liked, and I haven't had an opportunity to go there until now. But the thing is-" She chuckled nervously. "I'd prefer not to bring Rose along because she likes to fly about, and I know you're probably busy, but it's just that, well, she's already spent a lot of time the last weeks in the Dungeon with you, and she really seems to have taken a liking to you and…"

She took a deep breath. "You don't think you could watch her for a few hours tomorrow morning, do you? Just until I get it sorted?"

He blinked, unsure if he had understood her correctly.

Her face fell. "I'm sorry. I _was_ imposing. I'll just-"

"You want me to watch her?" He still couldn't quite get his head around it. This was not the same as stray encounters in the corridors. This was something more. It was deliberate. It was… _trust_.

"Well… yes." She looked like she regretted having opened her mouth in the first place and he cursed himself a stuttering fool.

"Of course," he said, sounding gruff in his effort to cover his astonishment –which was entirely idiotic in the first place, as Rose had indeed been following him around for quite some time. "Just send her down- I'll be in my office."

"Oh…" She smiled, relieved. "Will you? I mean, if it isn't a bother…?"

"Granger. Do I _look_ bothered?"

He hadn't meant it as a joke. In fact, he was a little vexed with himself for acting like a right old sod, but she broke into a laugh and it seemed to flow around him like a gentle southern breeze. "No you don't," she said, taking a step closer and laying her hand upon his arm. "Thank you. I really appreciate it. And I know that Rose does too." She nudged him. "And it's Hermione."

Her fingers warmed him through his coat. The touch was casual; as though she hadn't even given it a thought, and he breathed in her soft, mild scent and found himself utterly perplexed. No one had touched him like that in decades. It felt like eons.

He never really noticed, but that was when it all began. He suddenly found himself attracted to the bright and airy space and to the smell of medical herbs and starched sheets. He found himself anticipating the skipping of tiny feet, and longing for another opportunity to feel that blessed, gentle hand on his arm.

Subconsciously, without even recognising the dirty trick his heart was playing him, he started to invent reasons for going to the Infirmary.

* * *

On Saturday, which was the last day of August, the entire Hogwarts workforce gathered in the staffroom for a shared meal to mark the end of summer, or as Hermione quickly discovered, use the final opportunity to get themselves three sheets to the wind before the students arrived.

Having returned from his journey, Ron had graciously offered to take Rose a day early, and Hermione had dropped her off at his flat with barely any time to spare. As she rushed through the Hogwarts corridors, struggling with her bracelet as she went, all she could think about was that she'd rather spend the night at home with her child. But there was little to be done about that now and she would just have to make the best of it.

She pushed the door open silently, taking care so as not to disturb Filius, who was in the middle of some sort of speech. Everyone else had already found their seats around a large rectangular table that took up almost the entire length of the room. Surreptitiously, she waved to Hagrid and Neville, who both were nodding at her in greeting.

"Ah," said Filius in his slightly high-pitched voice, "there's our last and latest colleague just now. Right on time, Hermione." He waved her in. "Have a seat. We were just finishing off the introductions, but I trust most people here to be familiar with you already."

A little self-conscious, she glanced around the table, meeting the eyes of Neville's wife, Hannah Abbott, who taught Transfiguration and Michael Corner, who had taken up Filius' old post when Minerva McGonagall retired. Sybil Trelawney was there as well, at the end of the table next the ethereal Binns, who floated above his chair, eying the feast before them jealously.

Filius indicated a dark-haired witch with square spectacles who was squeezed in beside Hagrid and Aurora Sinistra. "This here is Catherine Poe," he said. "She is our new librarian. And over there," he pointed across the table, "Cavan Hern, whom I think you've already met, Hermione?"

Hern showed off his dazzling teeth and she gave them both a smile that she hoped was warm and friendly.

"Hermione is the new Mediwitch," said Filius. "And we're all very pleased that she was willing to give up her old post at St. Mungo's to come here and join us. I'm sure she'll be a real asset."

He climbed down from his chair, which he had been using as a speaker's podium. "And now that all the perfunctory talk is over and through with," he said, "let's all just dig in. The elves have made us-" He stretched to scan the overflowing table. "Ah! Beef Wellington and roast lamb. Wonderful!"

Scattered applause broke out, and Hermione walked around the table towards the only available seat. It was the chair opposite from Filius, between Hern, who sat beside Neville, and Severus, who was at the very end of the row, a little apart from the others. She wondered if he had chosen that seat deliberately, or if simply no one else had wanted to sit beside him. Taking in his somewhat irritated expression, she voted for the latter.

"Hello," she said, as she approached behind their backs. "Mind if I join you?"

They both turned towards her and Hern was quick to pull out the empty chair. He wore a black shirt today, with the top buttons undone and his hair slicked back from his face. "Not at all," he said, "I was afraid you'd never come."

"Oh." She smiled. "Thank you. No, I was delayed, that's all. I'm a bit embarrassed to come bustling in like this though. I hope Filius didn't mind."

"Don't think about that," said Hern easily. "We're all just glad you could be here." He glanced at her. "You look great by the way. I like the colour of your dress."

"Thanks." She smoothed out the skirt as she sat. "It's new."

"You want some help with that?" Hern nodded at the bracelet she had been trying to attach to her right wrist.

She chuckled. "Sure. Yeah, thanks." She held out her hand and he grasped it lightly as though to steady her when he fastened the tiny lock.

"There," he said and his hand seemed to linger on hers just a tad longer than necessary. "All done."

"Great." She adjusted it on her arm, turning her eyes to the food and willing the blush on her cheeks to calm down. She had always felt a little awkward around flirtatious men, even if they were just trying to be friendly. It probably had something to do with the fact that it never usually happened to her. "This looks delicious."

"You have to try the lamb, Cavan," said Neville, rekindling the old discussion about the supremacy of French versus British food.

With Hern distracted, she turned to the companion on her left. So far, he had seemed quiet and distant and unlike their jaunty new colleague, he was dressed in his usual black, buttoned up all the way to his Adam's apple with just a slim edge of the white shirt beneath peeking up over the edge of his coat.

"What's the matter, Severus?" she said quietly. "Don't you like parties?"

He grunted something unintelligible, eyes on his plate. It was obvious that he'd prefer to be elsewhere.

"I don't either," she said, low enough for only him to hear. "I'd much rather stay at home with a good book. I swear I get less and less sociable with each passing year." She scooped some of the lamb onto her plate. It looked tender and she closed her eyes for a moment to relish the scent. When she opened them, Severus was watching her.

"Me too," he said. "Although that isn't much of a change for me, I'm afraid."

"No." She poked him lightly in the arm. "You never really struck me as an extrovert."

He looked down on the offending finger. "Is that just a nice way of calling me ill-tempered?"

If the crinkles of mischief around his eyes hadn't betrayed him, she might have thought he was insulted. "Oh, stop it." She chuckled. "You're not fooling me. You're laughing, I can tell."

"Still the little know-it all, I see." He started to cut his beef. "So where's Rose?"

"She's with her Daddy." Hermione hesitated. On her other side, she thought she felt Hern turn slightly towards her and she lowered her voice just a fraction. "You know. Ronald. We're no longer seeing each other and… well, Rose, she stays with him every second week."

It still hurt, although the sense of loss was less intense than in the beginning. She never lamented getting rid of Ron, but having to share her daughter like that had been hard and especially in the mornings and evenings, she would be lonely when Rose was away on her 'Dad-week'.

"She seems to have adjusted…" Severus watched her cautiously.

Hermione smiled, as though to reassure both him and her. "Yes, I think she has. But it's been over a year now. She was less delighted about it in the beginning."

"Mm."

"I didn't have the chance to ask you before," she said. "What did you two do this morning?"

"I took her to the forest," he said between bites. "Hagrid had some valerian for me to pick up."

"That sounds great." She suddenly wished she'd come with them. "A much better way to spend them morning then trawling through shops in Hogsmeade. I love autumn, especially when the leaves turn red and yellow."

"Yes." Severus suddenly snorted. It was as though he had meant to laugh, but still felt the need to hold back in front of her. "Rose says the trees are putting their nighties on." He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "And when we met Hagrid her eyes went big as saucers."

"Oh, no." Hermione covered her mouth with a palm. "I hope she didn't say anything offending… Poor Hagrid."

Severus shook his head. "Don't worry. I think she was impressed. She merely said that I was no longer the tallest person she knew." He turned towards her. "The first time she saw _me_ however, she told me I had greasy hair."

"God…" She winced. "I'm sorry!"

He shrugged, going back to his meal. "It isn't entirely off-mark, I'll give her that. Besides, it sounded like she got most of her information from Potter, not you."

"Yes…" Hermione peeked at his hair. It wasn't greasy, just lank, and looked like he'd showered just before going to dinner. She wondered what it would feel like to the touch…soft probably…and smooth…

"Harry does enjoy telling them stories from school," she said, tearing her gaze from him. "It only got worse since Teddy started here last year. Do you know him, by the way?"

For some reason, Severus seemed to tense up. "Edward Lupin is in my class, yes," he muttered.

She didn't get an opportunity to inquire further, because across from them, Filius was leaning over. "Your daughter Rose is a charming girl, Hermione," he said. "She reminds me a lot about you."

She turned to him, unable to conceal a proud smile. From the corner of her eye, she could see Hern listening to their conversation with rapt interest.

"Thank you." She grimaced. "I hope she's not too intrusive on your work time though? I know she can be a bit…"

"No worries." Filius waved her off. "I hardly ever see her. She mostly spends her time in the Dungeons." He winked at his Potion's Master. "Doesn't she, Severus?"

"Does she?" asked Hern from her right. He wore a slight frown on his face. "I haven't seen her there," he said, "but then again, I'm mostly on the third floor now that there are no students in my dormitories."

"She's down there all the time," said Hermione. "She's always wanted to see a Mereperson."

"Oh, I see." Hern chuckled. "If you'd like, I can ask the Bloody Baron to keep an eye on her. He's already offered helping me look after the Slytherins and he spends most his time in the Dungeons anyway."

"Thank you, Cavan," she said, caught off-guard. The offer was unnecessary as Rose was usually with Severus in any case, but apparently, he'd missed out on that part. She felt it would be rude to point it out. "That's kind of you…"

She glanced to her other side in the hope of catching Severus' eye, but he had drawn away from the conversation and was scowling into his pudding.

"No problem." Hern was smiling brightly. "So are you coming out with us tonight? You mentioned you needed a babysitter."

"Yes, I am," she said. "I'm a bit concerned though. I haven't been to a pub for ages and I'm afraid I'll get properly sloshed if I don't watch it."

"The students won't arrive until afternoon," said Filius. "The train leaves at ten, and it takes a full four hours for it to get to Hogsmeade. We'll all have plenty of time to sleep it off."

Hermione laughed. "I don't know if that makes me more or less concerned."

The rest of dinner passed with light chatter about the upcoming year, mainly driven by Hern and Filius, but with the occasional comment from Hermione. To her dismay, Severus didn't say another word.

But after dessert, they moved out into a nearby atrium where a house-elf served homemade sloe gin and cheese. It was a lovely spot, open to the blue sky above and with a few planted trees with low stone benches beneath them. Despite it being so far north, the late August sun warmed her back and it was pleasant to leave behind the stifling staffroom.

She walked over to the drinks table and cast her eyes around for Severus before taking two glasses and heading in his direction.

He was sitting on a bench beneath a young birch. As she approached, a leaf, already autumn yellow, detached itself from the tree in the light breeze and landed in his shoulder-length hair. She offered him his after-dinner with a chuckle and leaned in to pick it off him. "You're gathering dust already," she said, holding it up for him to see. "Are you really that bored?"

He smiled again and it was the same smile she'd seen him give Rose; a softening of his eyes that made the skin there crinkle at the corners. It was only the second time she had ever seen him do that and there and then, she made it her mission to make him do so more often.

"Not anymore," he said gently, taking a small sip from his glass.

"This garden is beautiful." Hermione sat next to him, looking up towards the sky through the green and yellow branches. "I can't believe I've never noticed it before."

"That's because it used to be a broom closet," said Severus. "It was only after the war when they rebuilt the school that Minerva decided to have it redone. See that?" He pointed to a fountain near the back where clear water trickled merrily from the mouth of a small gargoyle.

Hermione leaned back to look around him. "Yeah?"

"She transfigured it from one of Argus' old wash buckets." Severus lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Don't tell him I said so, but if you watch it closely, it takes on the face of Mrs. Norris."

"That is…" She studied the gargoyle attentively, laughing at the way the water seemed to turn into soap bubbles. "Severus, that is some impressive magic." She turned back to him. "She sure has a wicked sense of humour though."

"That," he said, "and a great flair for architecture. Hogwarts needed both after the war."

"Of course." She smiled. "It's a lovely place. I can't wait to show it to Rose." She watched him for a moment. "I hope you don't mind me asking," she said quietly, "but why did you return? After…Voldemort, I mean."

"I don't mind…" He looked down on his hands for a moment before replying. "I suppose the easy answer is that there isn't many jobs out there for someone with my…reputation."

She raised her eyebrows. "What? I bet many people would have hired you." _She_ would.

"Mm. Maybe. I just never tried for another job." He looked up. "Truthfully, I stayed because it was easy. Teaching is the only thing I've ever done and I like the predictability. I've had more than enough of excitement and stress."

That was certainly understandable… She watched the tiny leaf she was still holding, twirling it between her fingers. "I guess you only wanted some peace and quiet then?"

"I don't think that's too much to ask." He huffed wryly, the movement of his shoulders caught by her peripheral vision. "Although most of the students seem to disagree."

Maybe it was just the wine, but there was a playful, almost giddy feeling forming in her stomach as they spoke. It made her want to tease him and joke with him; to stroke that spark in him whenever he grew amused. She looked at him askance, eyes wide. "Surely, they can't be worse than _we_ were?"

"Huh." He somehow managed to put both exasperation, rueful hesitance and humour all into a single grunt and even as his face grew more serious, the glint in his eye remained. "No, probably not," he said. "Maybe it's just me that's getting old."

She snorted into her drink, feeling only faintly self-conscious about it. "Don't be a dunderhead. You're not old."

"Actually," he said more slowly, tracing the rim of his glass with a strong-looking finger, "I've already started to think about retiring. If everything goes… well, as planned, I only have a couple of years left…"

"Retire?" She frowned. She couldn't quite picture Hogwarts without him. "Why would you do that?"

"I…" He seemed to hesitate, looking around as though in search for words, but all of a sudden something vanished from his eyes and he got up from the bench.

Confused, she followed his gaze to discover that Neville and Hern were approaching them, seemingly in the middle of an animated talk. Severus stiffened, as though bracing himself and she felt abruptly bereft.

"That's just too amusing," said Hern to Neville. Now that they were no longer sitting at the table, she could see that his thin shirt left very little of his toned upper body to the imagination. "You have to tell Hermione as well."

She stood, looking between them. "Tell me what?"

"Oh," Neville said. "It was just a story about once when one of my Slytherin-Gryffindor sets were really behind on the syllabus." He chuckled shyly. "They're a rowdy crowd and so I gave them a speech about what they needed to know for their exams, which ended with something about why they would need the knowledge in real life."

He shook his head. "And this small boy at the back, he's a Gryffindor and one of the worst of them, and can you guess what he says?"

She grinned. Despite her annoyance with them for interrupting, it was impossible not to be drawn in by Neville's enthusiasm for his work. "No. What?"

" _You really mean to say that this is the same thing as we use for potion_ s?" Neville rolled his eyes. "Turns out, the kid had no idea why there even was a subject called Herbology. He thought we were just fooling about with plants for the hell of it."

Hermione almost choked on her drink and Hern laughed again. "Can you believe it?" he said, wiping his eyes. "You'd think we're only here to punish them."

"Oh, my," said Hermione. "I'm so glad I'm not going to teach." She looked at Neville with growing respect. "I have to say you have an admirable profession. It must take a lot of patience and self-sacrifice."

"It can be tiring," said Neville, "but it helps to talk about it with your colleagues. And I'm sure you'll have your share of difficulties as well, Hermione. Even Poppy was flagging a bit there at the end."

"Us newbies got to stick together, right?" Hern smiled. "Although you're hardly that, Neville. How long have you been teaching now?"

"Two years," he said. "It feels like forever."

"Better use the opportunity to loosen our hair while can," said Hern. "Is Hannah coming to Hogsmeade as well?"

"Yeah. And I talked to Michael. He'll be joining us later."

"What about you, Hermione?" Hern turned to her, holding out his glass in a small salute. "Do you have someone special in your life you'll bring along tonight?"

"Ah," she said, "no actually. Not unless you count Rose. And she's with her father now."

"Does that mean you're single?"

To her dismay, she blushed for the second time that night. "Yes. Basically."

"Oh, well," said Hern easily. "We can't all have Neville's luck. I'm single as well. But I'm glad it isn't just me who doesn't have a family here. Let me know if you get bored in the evenings and we can lament our dismal love lives together." He rolled his eyes dramatically.

She shook her head. "Alright, Cavan, I will."

"Call me Cav," he said, "that's what my friends do."

"Sure." She smiled. "Cav."

"So should we go?" asked Neville. "I think people are starting to finish off out here and the Broomsticks is waiting."

"Right." Hermione turned to Severus to ask him if he was coming too, but the space beside her was empty.

She cast her eyes around, looking towards the entrance just in time to see him slither silently through the door. His cloak trailed limply behind him on the cobbled floor, a few crumpled leaves scattering in his wake. She sighed.

Hern, who had followed her gaze, leaned closer. "That Snape fellow is a bit odd, isn't he?" he said. "Not the friendliest chap on staff, I'll tell you."

She looked up at him, surprised. "What?" she said. "No, I think he's really nice. Why would you say that?"

"Oh." Hern took a sip from his glass, appearing a little off-balanced by her reply. "Ah, well," he said, "I don't really _know_ him, of course, but it's just that yesterday, he basically told me to go stuff myself."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe we came off to a bad start, I don't know, but he was really curt with me. I only wanted to ask him about last year's syllabus, but suffice to say, I had to get my answers elsewhere."

"Really?" She was genuinely confused. "Maybe you interrupted him. Some potions spoil if they're unattended at a critical stage. I'm sure it was just a bad time…"

Hern lifted an eyebrow, regarding her. "Yes," he said slowly. "Perhaps… Potioneers, hm?" His tone turned brighter. "They're all a quirky sort. Oh, and speaking of potions." He chuckled. "You know our little… research project?"

"Of course." She perked up. "Did you find something?"

"No," he said, shaking his head, "but I mentioned it to Catherine the other day." He nodded towards Poe, the librarian. "And she offered to go through supplier lists for us. You see, for someone to sell that stuff, they'd need clarification for poisonous substances. It has to be a registered apothecary."

"That's good news."

"Yeah…" Hern shrugged again. "But I still haven't heard from my Auror contact. I doubt this can be considered an offence though, at least if the stuff is in conventional trade. Look." He pointed at a gathering of people near the entrance. "It seems like we're going. We'll continue this later some time, alright?"

"Sure." She lifted her skirt a little to manoeuvre her low heels safely across the stones, catching up with the group that mainly consisted of the below-forty segment of the staff.

Then they walked to Hogsmeade, Hermione side-by-side with Hern and Hannah, but her heart wasn't really in it.

For some reason she was already disappointed, even though the evening had only just begun, and it had nothing whatsoever to do with her unbalanced bookkeeping.


	4. Brewing War

"Were we also this small?"

Hermione watched the first-years from her place in the Great Hall, feeling slightly thrown off-kilter. It seemed like it was only yesterday when it had been her own bushy head beneath the tattered old sorting hat and the perspective felt decidedly different when watching it all from the teacher's table.

Beside her, Neville had been engaged in a guessing contest with Michael Corner about which house each student ended up in, but he turned to chuckle knowingly at her.

"You know we were," he said, nudging her with his elbow. "You were a bossy swot and I was a quivering nervous wreck." He grinned. "Sometimes I think that growing up was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"I'll say..." She shook her head a little. "And I suppose we were, but was it really that long ago?"

"It's been twenty years to the day. If you blink, it will be Rose's turn." Neville patted her hand. "Don't tell me you miss it?"

"I don't…not exactly…" Hermione looked towards the Headmaster's seat, where Filius was perched atop a small stack of pillows. Although he lacked some Dumbledore's physical presence, he seemed very much at home in the position, smiling amicably down at the sea of uniformed children.

"Is it much different now?" she asked. "You know, without Dumbledore and McGonagall around?"

Neville looked out across the hall, where Cavan was reading the new student's names off a scroll. His voice was nearly drowned out by the Ravenclaws at the table furthest to their right, who were cheering a tiny girl with black hair and round spectacles.

"I miss Pomona most," said Neville, "but at least we still got Filius and Hagrid."

Hermione chuckled. "And Sybill," she added, "and I don't think Cuthbert will ever move on from this place. And Severus is still here, so I guess some things remain the same."

Neville shrugged, seeming indifferent.

"What?" She raised her eyebrows. "You still don't like him much?"

"Nah…" Neville shot a glance towards their very left, where Severus was sitting next to Catherine, the librarian. They weren't talking to each other and she seemed uncomfortable in her spot at the end of the table with only the Potions Master for company.

Neville turned back to Hermione, raising his voice again as the Gryffindors saluted their newest member. "I can't say he's my favourite person, but I suppose he's grown on me since we were kids." He snorted. "But my opinion of him was pretty low back then. These days at least he thinks to thank me when I substitute for him."

"Oh." Her eyes widened. "You substitute his classes?"

"We all do that for each other when it's necessary." Neville chuckled. "So yeah. When he's ill and all that. I'm the one who grows most of his potion ingredients anyway."

"Right." Hermione frowned. "But what do you mean? Severus is ill?"

Neville shrugged. "Bloke has as much right to take a sick day as anyone I suppose, even if he's a mean old grouch. But there's no need to worry about me blowing up the Dungeons." He looked at her askance. "I've improved, you know. My potions skills have matured since we were in school."

Hermione smiled. "I believe you," she said, off-hand. In fact, many things about Neville had matured. The man beside her was very different from the tense and clumsy boy she had met on the Hogwarts Express. Much like Harry, he'd grown into a level-headed adult with a quiet, unassuming appeal. She had no doubt he would make a very good parent one day, if he and Hannah ever chose to have children.

"But even so, he hasn't changed much, has he?" Neville said. "He's strict and short-tempered and I know that Filius still receives a lot of complaints."

"From whom?" She lowered her voice a fraction, even though it made no difference in the general commotion. "And whatever for?"

"Oh, you know…" Neville sighed. "Usually it's the old Death Eater thing. With our generation becoming parents to children here, many of them remember the year when he was Headmaster. See that girl next to Teddy?" He pointed to a Hufflepuff whose light brown hair was in a long plait. Hermione nodded.

"That's Susan Bones' niece. She in second grade now and, well, it was a bit of a hassle to convince her parents to allow her in Potions in the first place." He shook his head. "Susan was abused pretty badly, you know…that year... The Carrows often targeted her for her family's resistance and…" He trailed off. "Well, you can imagine she had it pretty tough."

"I see…" Hermione's eyes drifted towards the Sorting Hat again. She supposed she should consider herself lucky that they had spent their last year away from school. Although they'd certainly had their share of difficulties on the run, at least they didn't have to contend with Voldemort's lackeys on a daily basis.

But it had been tough for everyone. That particular year must certainly have been a struggle for Severus and it couldn't have been easy for him to return here after what had transpired. Even if they'd have let him be Headmaster again, she doubted he would have wanted it and though he'd explained to her his reasons for staying, she had a hard time believing he had revealed to her the entire truth…

"He likes you, you know."

Her heart skipped a beat.

"What? Who?"

Neville smiled, nodding at the students lined up for sorting. There were only a few of them left now. "Cavan, who else? I noticed you were watching him."

"I wasn't…" Her gaze turned towards the man in green robes who was picking the hat off a curly-haired Slytherin.

Neville laughed quietly. "He's a decent fellow," he said. "Social and active. He loves Quidditch, but unlike Ron, he's pretty well-read. I think you'd be a great match."

She shook her head feebly. "I hate sports…"

"I'll be sure to let him know… Listen, Hermione, I hope you don't mind me asking, but…" He searched her face, seeming to test the waters. "It's just that you've been alone for some time now and I never got the chance to talk to you after…Ron, so I was wondering…" He trailed off uncertainly.

She sighed, knowing what would come. "Yes," she said, forestalling the inevitable question. "I'm over him. Completely."

"I'm glad to hear it." Neville leaned a little closer. "What exactly happened between you two? You were together for years. It all seemed sort of sudden."

"I know." Hermione picked up her dessertspoon, tracing patterns with it edge on the tablecloth. "I mean, I know it must have seemed that way, but really, it was a long time coming. Ron and I we…"

She cast around for the right words, thinking of how the romantic interest in one of her first friends had been largely founded in her own inexperience and need for approval and how she hadn't really known at the time that the unusually strong bond they had forged during the war wasn't really what they'd hoped it was.

So when normality resumed, and she started her healer studies and Ron went on to pursue his Quidditch career, the understanding between them that was founded in the fellowship of a common ordeal dimmed, and their differences in personality came into play in a way that made the truth painfully obvious: They bored each other to death.

That withstanding, it had taken considerable time before any one of them had shown the guts to do anything about it. And with Rose on the way, their future together had seemed to be carved in stone. In fact, it hadn't really occurred to her that she ought to reconsider her situation until that fateful day almost two years ago, when Ron was awarded Witch Weekly's 'Most Charming Smile of the Year'.

It was such a silly little thing. But it had shaken their relationship when Ron's success as a Quidditch player brought him the kind of female attention he'd always craved as a teenager. And even though he never wavered, it had been a wake-up call for them both. From then on, Ron grew restless and distant, wanting to enjoy his spotlight lifestyle, but she didn't, and preferred to spend her nights at home, alone.

"At the end we hardly ever saw each other anymore," she contended to say. "We don't share any common interest, apart from Rose, of course. But even with her in our lives we only seemed to talk past each other and over the years the wedge between us grew. When we didn't even look forward to the time spent together, we decided it was better to just be apart."

"But you're still friends?"

Seeing Neville's concerned expression almost made her laugh. "Yes, we're friends," she said with a chuckle. "In fact, we're on better terms now than we've ever been before. Ron has started dating a chaser from the Harpies just recently and I'm delighted on his behalf. Honestly. It's quite liberating."

Neville grinned, nodding at Hern, who had just taken his place beside Filius. "I'm truly happy to hear that," he said. "And I know someone else who'll be happy as well. It's high time for you to start seeing someone new."

"Perhaps, Neville." She rolled her eyes at the wheedling and put the spoon down as their dinner appeared in front of them. "Maybe. When I meet the right one…"

Neville's cheeks turned slightly pink. "Well," he said, so quietly that she almost couldn't hear, "you won't know until you try, will you?"

She figured she didn't have to reply to that, choosing instead to cast her eyes once again at the young professor who seemed to have taken an interest in her.

There was no denying that Cavan Hern was handsome and pleasant to be around. It baffled her that someone who surely could have had his pick amongst almost any woman he laid eyes on would choose to look at _her_ , a boring bookworm so distinctly lacking in the elusive quality that makes men turn their heads…

She'd lie if she said she wasn't flattered.

* * *

Severus put his quill into the greying wooden ink holder on his desk and sorted yet another poorly worded first-year essay to the stack of corrected assignments. The flames in the fireplace were burning low and a raw chill had started to creep into the room, seeming to come from the shadowy corners where the light from the candles did not quite reach. It was nearing eight in the evening, his office hours were over, and a headache was slowly but surely creeping up on him from working in the dimming light. All he wanted to do was to crawl back to his living quarters and rest his eyes.

He had been farsighted even as a boy. But his father had thought that reading was for women and nancy-boys, and would strike him for being a whining sissy if he ever mentioned it. As such, his parents never gave him glasses, something Potter and his mates never failed to remind him of once he started Hogwarts. They laid into him about almost everything, but the remarks about his hair and face staining the textbooks with grease marks had got to him, making the whole damn thing a sore spot he had never quite recovered from.

But a life-long habit of reading in the dark had not helped his condition, and nowadays, he didn't stand a chance without his reading glasses. He still managed in the classroom, luckily. He knew the syllabus by heart and could distinguish most potion ingredients without reading off the labels, but the essays were a right pain. Especially since the student's handwriting only seemed to worsen with each passing year.

Severus sighed. He would just have to suck it up and let the little blighters wait to have their work returned. They would probably just thank him for it anyway.

He pushed the remaining stack of parchment aside and stretched his back. But as he did, the creaking chair made him miss the silent opening of his office door…

"Looking a bit peaky there, Snape."

He straightened sharply at the nonchalant voice, immediately pulling his glasses off his face. _Hern_.

"What do _you_ want?"

Severus knew he was being rude, but he was not in the mood to cross swords tonight. Because surely, there could be no other reason for Cavan Hern to approach him other than to pick a fight. The former Auror had a way of unnerving him, and from the calculating glances they exchanged and the whispers in the corridors, it was clear that the dislike was mutual.

It didn't help Severus much that he had no idea what Hern knew about his affiliation with the Dark Lord and his sordid past as a criminal, but as far as he could tell, they managed to not get along in spite of Hern being oblivious. Nevertheless, why they could not leave each other well alone was beyond his comprehension.

Apparently though, Hern thought differently. He calmly walked around the room, eying the potion ingredients and clutter in the shelves with mild interest.

"There's no need to cut me off," he said, pausing before Severus' desk to perch boldly on its edge. "I only want a quick word."

"It's late," said Severus coldly. "I'm of a mind to call it a day."

"I can tell." Hern looked down on him, only a slight disdainful tilt of his mouth betraying his irritation. "But surely you have time for a friendly chat with a colleague?"

"Fine." Hating the way he sounded petulant, Severus averted his eyes and huffed. "So what do you want already?"

"Angel's trumpet," said Hern, tracing a path with his finger in the dust on one of the books that was scattered about. "Have you heard of it?"

Severus sneered. "Of course I have," he said. "Any first-year with the ability to read has. It's listed in _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_."

"It's briefly mentioned." Hern wrinkled his nose as he brushed off his hands. "And it would be a far stretch to say that it's common knowledge. I assume you're not acquainted with any potions where it would be useful, are you?"

The question was asked casually, but the undertone of accusation made Severus instantly wary.

"It isn't used in regular potions," he said slowly, "at least not in any publication I know of. But if you distil the tropane alkaloids in the seeds, it's a fairly potent poison..."

"It is," said Hern, watching him. "A nerve agent. It causes a very nasty death. Grizzly, I'd say." He tilted his head. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Severus bristled. "Well, if you know that already," he barked, "why bother coming to _me_?"

"I assumed you knew more. You're the Potions Master, after all." Hern widened his eyes innocently. "You see, Hermione has asked me to look into it. There were several orders of it in the Infirmary's bookkeeping and she was worried she'd get blamed for someone else's…misconduct..."

"Hermione asked you?"

"Yeah." Hern shrugged. "And of course I offered my assistance. Who wouldn't for such a charming lady, hm?"

Severus' face felt stony. He was just about ready to hex Hern back to the third floor, but unfortunately, his wand was on the far side of the table. That, and perhaps he wasn't entirely confident in the outcome of a potential duel…

"I 'm sure you did," he said gruffly. "Now are you quite through with disturbing my work or was there anything else you needed?"

"I thought you were tired?" As he spoke, Hern leaned over to glance at the papers on Severus' circular desk. "But now that you mention it, there is actually something I've been meaning to ask…"

"Go on then." He gathered the essays together, putting them to the side so that Hern couldn't see his markings. He had no idea why, but even those felt too personal for disclosure, as though he just expected the young man to use any information he could get hands on against him. Maybe he was being silly, but there was something between them... An uneasiness he hadn't felt with anyone since his schooldays, when Potter and the Marauders were the bane of his existence…

"It's about _her_."

Hern studied him carefully, apparently anticipating some sort of reaction, but Severus was seasoned in the art of deception.

"About whom?"

Hern chuckled. "Hermione of course. You seem familiar. I was wondering how you know her?"

Severus frowned. "I was her teacher. What of it?"

"Right. I should have guessed." Hern's face brightened. "So you don't know her… privately or anything?"

"Whatever do you mean by that?"

"I mean, do you see each other in your free time?" Hern jumped off his desk, upsetting his quill so that its tip made a wet, red trail down the ink holder. Severus felt his lips thin, but Hern continued, unperturbed, "…do you know anything at all about her life? Like where does she live in summer, or who her ex-husband is?"

Up until then, Severus had been able to contain his temper, but this interrogation was the final straw. He stood from his chair, scowling. "That's none of your business, Hern," he growled. "If I knew I wouldn't tell you. I suggest you leave her alone."

"I see…." Hern watched him slyly. "But I doubt she'd want that. In fact, I've got an appointment with her on Saturday." He smirked. "She's going to help me go through the Slytherins' medical files…"

"Is she now?" They stood on either side of the desk, facing off as though poised for a fight.

"She is." Hern casually picked up a paperweight from the table, an old-fashioned brass compass.

Severus shifted. After Potter and his Order had killed off the Dark Lord, and with typical chivalry, Potter had presented him with it when he woke up in St. Mungo's twelve years ago.

Supposedly, it was a 'thank you' for guarding his path through the war –never mind that Potter had already saved his life form Nagini's bite. It was simple, without unnecessary décor, but at first, his relationship to it had been ambivalent. Yet, for unexplainable reasons, he'd kept it around, and over time, he'd grown rather fond of the dratted thing.

After all, it was Potter who had kept him out of Azkaban, if only by the skin of his teeth, and that was a fate worse than death if you had enough vices to carry around.

But he digressed...

Hern examined the compass with studied disinterest before boring cold blue eyes into Severus' own.

"You seem to have a bit of a… soft spot for her…"

There was a moment when he could not quite comprehend what had been said. It took several seconds for him to realise that they had arrived at the matter of the heart, but eventually, an icy chill went down his spine.

He had not moved an inch, but something must have betrayed him nonetheless because after a moment, a haughty smile made Hern's cheek dimple.

"Don't you?" he demanded.

He did.

How could he have let this happen? Once again, he longed for someone who didn't return the sentiment. He had been down that road before and knew that it wouldn't end well. In fact, he did not think he could take it one more time…

But even worse, his secret was out. He watched Hern's expression through the scant shield his greasy hair provided. Was he really that transparent? It had been many years since he stopped occluding his thoughts on a daily basis, but surely, he still had some control over his face?

Well, apparently not. But judging from Hern's knowing look, the pompous prick had a secret or two of his own. After all, doesn't it take one to know one, as the saying goes?

Severus tried to ignore the way something in his chest crumpled by that realisation. Deep down, he had known all along that they were rivals, but having the truth served like a gut-punch made it tangible.

This was just like with Potter when they were young. Because really, what did _he_ have to offer anyone? He wasn't outgoing or handsome… A lifetime's supply of potions maybe? A decent sized, but heavily skewed library? Or –he almost snorted- his ramshackle house on Spinner's End?

He knew he wasn't what most women would want. A social pariah. Always quiet, shielding himself from past hurts and preferring to be alone so that others would not see his scars. His disposition was far from friendly, and although the years had softened his edges, they had not made him pleasant or sociable, but instead, he had to admit, rather dull. A far cry from the open, attractive, young Hern who always seemed to know what to say to make others feel well…

He forced his sweaty palms to rest casually on the table top. He could not afford to show weakness in front of this man.

"Your cards are showing, Hern," he said instead, with a calm he didn't feel. "It seems to me that _you're_ the one who's smitten."

But the challenge did not appear to have the impact on Hern that he had aimed for.

"I am." Instead of seeming caught-out, he merely put the compass carelessly back down on the desk, making it topple down the messy stack of assignments and land on its side. He did not bother to set it straight. "And since you're not interested," he countered, "I'll be sure to let her know, so that I can get a…clear shot."

Perhaps that was for the best after all…

Severus felt both tired and rattled. He ignored the small victory it granted Hern and leaned forward to close the casing of Potter's compass and put it carefully back atop the stack of papers from where it came.

"You're twisting my words now," he said on a sigh. "I told you absolutely nothing."

"Perhaps not." Hern raised his eyebrows. "But I'm going to interpret it whichever way suits me. You know what they say, Snape?"

Severus shook his head. "What?"

"All is fair in love and war."

He was about to end the conversation by picking up his wand and throwing Hern out on his shitty, pretty head when a timid voice by the door made both men startle.

"Sev'rus…? Is something wrong?"

Rose was watching them with a frown on her little face, out of place in the tense atmosphere. Severus winced, pocketing his wand as subtly as he could manage and hoping to himself that murder had not been written on his face.

Without missing a beat, Hern walked around Severus' back, giving his shoulder a squeeze in passing, a bit too firm for friendly.

"Nothing's wrong, sweetie," he said kindly, crouching down in front of the girl and giving her a bright smile. "We're just talking about some grown-up stuff, don't worry. You probably know how old Severus here likes to act all grumpy."

Rose watched him sceptically, so he extended a hand. "My name is Cavan," he said. But if you'd like you can just call me Cav. I'm a friend of your mother's and I've heard a lot about you. You're Rose, am I right?"

She shook it cautiously, glancing at Severus as though to ask him if this was really true.

Despite his better judgement and a base desire to inform her that Hern was a conceited arse, Severus deigned the unasked question a small nod. He had not done anything that honourable in years –if at all- but it only left him a bitter taste in his mouth when Rose turned back to Hern with a smile.

"I know," she said. "You're the one who teaches flying. Mum said you used to chase villains, just like my Uncle Harry."

"That's right," said Hern. "Do you like to fly?"

"I guess." Rose shrugged, but the spark of interest in her eye was undeniable. "I've never tried, but Teddy says it's the coolest thing in the world. He's twelve already and he has his own broom."

"If you'd like, I can take you some time." Hern straightened in one smooth movement. "But it's rather late for you to be out by yourself, isn't it?" He glanced at his pocket watch. "Come here, I'll walk you home."

He extended a hand, but instead of taking it, Rose stepped into the room, away from him.

"Actually," she said, "Mum said I could visit Sev'rus before bed." She looked up at him, trust written in her lovely brown eyes. "You said I could, remember?"

Her loyalty was like spring's rain on the parched desert of his soul. Severus closed his eyes for the fraction of a second when all his resentment seemed to dissipate like the fleeting smoke from a missed curse.

"Of course, Rose," he said gently. "I remember."

But despite being touched to the bone, he could not help himself. When Rose looked away the next moment, he smirked wickedly at Hern, taking care so that she would not notice.

The spurned Defence Professor straightened with a benign smile on his face and said his goodbyes politely, but the look he sent in Severus' direction before he spun on his heel pledged bloody vengeance.

He stood there silently for a moment, watching the door where the man's perfectly tailored robe had just brushed through until a small hand entwined with his own. He bent his head to see Rose looking up at him expectantly.

"Come on then," she said, tugging on his arm. "You promised to make me hot chocolate."

"Right…" He sighed, picking his cloak from the leather armchair and tossing it over his shoulders.

If this indeed was war, his adversary was much better appointed and he knew he didn't stand a chance. He should probably just get used to that idea at once. He was through with fighting wars. He'd had enough of them for more than a lifetime and if he wanted his heart in one piece, he'd do well to remember.

But at least, it seemed, Rose was still on his side.


	5. Ministry Officials and Eavesdropping

He managed to push Hern from his mind eventually, not because he was able to rise above their petty bickering, but rather, due to a major distraction named Harry Potter.

Early on Friday, as he was desperately longing for the weekend, Filius managed to corner him in the corridor to inform him that Potter had scheduled a visit for that very afternoon.

After the war, when the old Death Eaters, him included, were put on trial for war crimes, Potter had miraculously managed to reduce his sentence without revealing to the word the private memories that he had given up when he was bitten by Nagini. It went with a prize though, as the Ministry had conditioned that he was to be supervised for an indefinite time, having to report all his activities to the Auror Office, and not being allowed to leave the country.

He was not supposed to announce them of course, but ever since Potter had insisted upon taking on the role as Severus' probation officer, he had somehow managed to let slip to Filius the odd hint about when these meetings were to take place.

Having Potter in that position certainly eased the burden. But it went with an awkward sort of gratitude for Severus, who hated them with a passion, always having felt deeply suspicious towards the Ministry in general, and the Auror force in particular.

That day, there was also a feeling of lingering fatigue, which had bothered him all week. It was as though he was about to come down with the flu, and it made him count the minutes of each lesson he had to teach.

So after the chat with Filius, he felt like caving in already, unknowing that his day was about to take a turn for the worse.

He managed alright through his morning classes though, up until the last set that afternoon, which were the sixth-year Slytherin-Gryffindors. He took mental roll call as they reluctantly entered the classroom, everyone squeezing in as far to the back as possible.

They were supposed to make Euphoria that double lesson and after he had put the recipe on the chalkboard with instructions to prepare the shrivelfigs, he went to the storage closet in the back to pick out some wormwood, which needed to be added freshly from the containers to preserve the moisture. He was leaning out from the ladder, with an arm hooked around its side when suddenly a dark shape emerged soundlessly from the top shelf.

The jar he held fell to the floor with a crash.

Time seemed to stop as Nagini slithered towards him, the slit pupils in her eyes glowing red in the darkness. Absurdly, all he could think about was that the wormwood, which was the last batch he had left, was ruined and that the students would not be able to do their allotted work.

Then, the snake shifted and moulded, transforming into the cruel, emotionless face of the Dark Lord.

It had been almost thirteen years since he saw him last. Severus' throat tingled from flesh memory and his ears were ringing with the cold, but simple word: 'Kill.'

He nearly did die that day, twelve years ago, the doctors telling him that for some time, he had indeed passed beyond the veil. It was his most terrifying nightmare that the Dark Lord might one day return and call upon his old Death Eaters and it was still a nervous habit of his to examine the Dark Mark at length on sleepless nights, attempting reassure himself that it stayed faded-grey and inert.

Sometimes, when he felt particularly brave, he would whisper to himself in the dark the dreaded name, ' _Voldemort_ ,' waiting anxiously for the unthinkable to happen. Yet it never did, the marred skin on his lower left arm stayed blessedly pale and apart from the lingering phantom pain, nothing had happened when he called upon his old master.

Until now.

He staggered on the ladder, instinctively taking a step back into nothing. He tumbled and fell to the floor, slamming hard against the opposite wall.

When he regained his senses, a young voice behind him snickered.

" _Ridiculus_."

The depraved half-man, half-snake, coiled in on itself like a wheel and rolled off, vanishing to the depths of the top shelf from where it came.

Severus turned his head. Behind him stood Granville Jorkins; wand raised and a mischievous expression on his face, a sixth-year Gryffindor with an attitude to rival even that of Edward Lupin.

With some difficulty in the narrow space, Severus climbed awkwardly to his feet, supporting himself on the closet door.

"I'd never thought you wouldn't recognise a boggart, Profess…" Jorkins trailed off, the grin on his face fading. "Oh… You don't look so good…"

The boy took hold beneath his arm, but Severus pushed him back harshly. He was more shaken by the incident than he had any right to be, especially since he had been perfectly aware of which shape his boggart would most likely take.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed at the disgruntled student. "You half-witted imbecile. Return to your seat this instant!"

Jorkins threw him a dirty look and slinked away, probably eager to tell his classmates all about their teacher's inaptitude. Severus gritted his teeth against the humiliation and glanced towards the top shelf.

It wasn't unusual for boggarts to lodge themselves in the plentiful nooks and crannies of Hogwarts, especially in the Dungeons, and the teachers regularly allotted part of their night patrol duties to search through the halls and classrooms in hunt of unwanted guests.

Being surprised by one in his own cupboard though, which he frequented on a daily basis, was an entirely different matter, and he did have a suspicion about who might have placed it there…

He pulled out his wand to trap the creature in a reinforced flagon before he returned to the classroom. Instead of Euphoria, he assigned a long and complex essay and predictably, the disappointed students complained and scowled at him for the duration of the horrible, endless lesson. He docked points and assigned detentions east and west, creating so much work for Filch that it would probably be the topic of many a heated staff meeting to come.

When the day was finally over, he was assaulted by Potter's cheerful face, waiting for him by the entrance to his rooms.

"How are you, Severus?" Potter wore his red Auror robes, signifying the official nature of his errand.

"I'm well, Potter." Severus inclined his head, confident that all traces of the boggart incident were vanished from his clothing. "And yourself? Children healthy?"

"Little Albus turned two last month," said Potter, shaking his unruly black hair from his face. "Ginny is already nagging me about having another. She wants a girl, of course. But I'm not certain if I'm ready yet…"

Severus opened the door to his quarters, gesturing Potter inside. "Surely you're not going to refuse her?" he asked off-hand. He flicked his wand towards the fireplace to get some much needed heat and light. "I rather think you should consider yourself lucky…"

"Do you?" Potter looked at him curiously, as though he was suddenly observing something new about him. Severus frowned.

"I hear you've become quite friendly with Rose…?"

He busied himself with making tea for three. "Indeed."

"She's a wonderful kid. Bright and clever. Takes after Hermione a lot." Potter removed his cloak, tossing it over the back of the sofa before settling comfortably in his usual seat. "But I never pictured _you_ as someone who would…"

He trailed off, watching Severus as he flooed the Headmaster's office to inform Filius that they were ready.

"That I would what, Potter?"

"I don't know. I just-" Potter shrugged. "I had no idea you actually _liked_ children, and now it almost seems as though you…"

"Never." Severus felt the corners of his mouth pull down. "I'd never want that," he said quietly. "I wouldn't wish such a fate upon any child."

Potter's eyes widened. "Why not? I think you'd be a great father." He grinned. "Maybe you'd have to work a little on your whole 'I'm so big and scary, I'll eat you for supper if you breathe too loudly'-act, but otherwise…"

Despite himself, Severus almost had to smile. Potter's imitation of his own drawling voice was not half-bad, especially when coupled with a twitchy scowl and him staring down his nose.

"Shut it, you twit. That's not the same at all." Severus turned as the floo flashed green, but not before pointing his finger at Potter in warning. "If you don't watch it, I'll slip a Blabbering Beverage in your tea and release you in the Slytherin Dormitories. Not that you'd need it."

"Poisoning Potter already, Severus?" piped Filius. He stamped his feet to get rid of the soot. "And here I was, thinking you had reformed."

"Filius," said Potter, getting up to shake his hand. "Pleasure, as always."

"Likewise." Filius went over to the kitchenette to grab a tall stool. It brought his head nearly on level with Severus' own. "I'm sorry I don't have time to cat today," he said, "I've got another meeting before dinner."

"No problem." Potter smiled at Severus. "This won't take long. In fact, I have some news for you I think you're really going to like."

"What is it?" Severus had to stop his foot from tapping nervously on the floor. The atmosphere of these meetings were usually casual and friendly, but there was always a nagging doubt in the back of his head, an ever-present suspicion that the Ministry might have discovered something about him. Something incriminating… He was also well aware that a fair few of the parents and some of the Board wouldn't mind seeing him disappear from Hogwarts for good.

"Don't fret," said Potter, watching him. "I told you the news are good. In fact, people at the Ministry are very pleased with recent developments." He looked at Filius. "With Severus back in his old post and released from Head duties, they feel that he can do little more than assign horribly long essays and dock the occasional house point. They think that this situation is satisfactory as long as the amount of complaints stay the same."

"What does that mean?" asked Filius.

"I asked the Head of Law Enforcement yesterday," said Potter with a pleased expression on his face. "On the condition that Severus' position don't change, it is very likely that an application for a pardon will be granted."

Severus heart gave an odd lurch.

"Really?"

"Yes." Potter calmly sipped his tea. "I told you we'd get there eventually, Severus. Took a little longer than I had hoped, but…" He shrugged. "All is well that ends well, right?"

Filius clapped his hands together. "That's wonderful!" He beamed. "Good on you, Severus. I'm delighted on your behalf."

"Yes…" Severus found himself lost for words, almost numbed towards the overwhelming sense of relief. He had been guarding his steps so closely for years, and now... He didn't know what to think anymore. There was a feeling in the pit of his stomach, awfully resembling guilt…

When they were done, Severus walked Potter to the Entrance Hall to see him off.

"Well," said Potter, "much as I'd like to stick around, I won't delay you any longer. I'm sure you'd like to get something to eat."

"Yes." Severus sighed. "Thank you."

Potter chuckled. "I'm amazing. I know."

"You're not half-bad." Severus snorted. "But you don't need your old Potions teacher to tell you that. You're perfectly aware of it already."

"I'm very happy to call myself your favourite parole officer, Severus." Potter took his hand and squeezed it. "Until next time then. Unless you feel inclined to take us up on our standing invitation?"

Severus shifted. During their walk down the corridor, he'd had a feeling of being watched, and he would rather keep their interaction short where they might be overheard.

"I'm forever your humble servant, Potter," he muttered, with equal amounts of sarcasm and regard. "But we both know that I make a poor dinner companion. Please pass on my greetings to the Missus."

Potter grinned, a strange mix of Lily and James blending into something that was uniquely different from the both of them. Maybe even better. "I will," he said, "as always. Take care."

Severus nodded and turned to leave, but as he rounded the nearest corner, a dark shape slinked out from behind a suite of armour to walk beside him.

"I never imagined you'd be friendly with the saviour of wizarding Britain," said Cavan Hern, watching him with an inscrutable expression. "Might I inquire as to the occasion for such a royal visitor?"

"You again?" said Severus, shaking his head. "Haven't you tired of me already?"

Hern chuckled. "I'm naturally curious," he said. "It goes with my profession." He arched an eyebrow. "Both of them, in fact."

"Does it now?" Severus stopped before the stair leading down to the Dungeons and put a hand in his pocket. "You know, Hern, you're probably the most bothersome person I've ever met, and I include Potter in that count. I don't see what him paying a visit to Hogwarts has to do with you at all."

"No?" Hern watched Severus' pocket with narrowed eyes. "Then what is all this I hear about you being on parole, hm?"

"That is not, and will never be, any of your concern," he said. "But now that you're here, there is actually something I've been meaning to give to you..."

He pulled his hand out of his coat, extracting the small flask he had put there earlier in the day.

Hern tensed visibly at the movement and Severus begrudgingly had to allow him credit for not drawing arms. They watched each other for several heartbeats, the flagon laying innocently between them in Severus' palm.

"So," said Hern, his mouth twitching slightly at the corner, "What's this?"

Curiously, he did not seem overly triumphant, and the glint in his eye was amused rather than mocking.

"Don't you recognise a simple boggart?" asked Severus, surprised to find some of his previous anger diminishing. "I thought you were the Defence expert here."

"Of course I do." Hern smiled full on. "What's the occasion?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "It appeared mysteriously in my storage room this afternoon. If I hadn't known better, I could almost have sworn that _someone_ placed it there intentionally…"

"That's preposterous," said Hern, his eyes widening in pretend indignation. "The students really seem to have it in for you, old boy. It must have something to do with your dazzling and generous disposition." He grinned, patting Severus on the back. "Don't take it too personally. They are probably just jealous."

Severus pushed the jar closer to Hern. "So," he growled, "do you want it or not? Your third-years will need one pretty soon, won't they? Save yourself some time."

Hern eyed him suspiciously. "What did you do to it?"

"Nothing." He shrugged. "Take it."

Instead of accepting the flagon, Hern pulled out his wand to cast a series of revealing spells on it, watching Severus' expression the whole time. The frown between his eyes grew as each of them returned a blank result.

"It's just a boggart..."

"I told you so." Severus sighed. He was too tired to fight, and engaging in open war with Hern would look very bad on Potter's record file, especially after the news he had just received.

"I really thought I had you down," said Hern, taking the flask from him. "Then again, as I just learned, there's more to you than I first assumed, isn't there?" He hummed to himself, tracing the engraved patterns on the glass with a finger before he looked Severus in the eye.

"Are you sure you don't want to back off," he said quietly. "Without excessive bragging, I can easily say that I've got one over you in the looks department." He frowned. "Surely you realise that you don't stand a chance?"

It was a genuine offer of truce, with the usual chains accompanying all such things. On a different day, Severus might have taken him up on it and lived peacefully ever after, but just then, his mind was far away from Hern…

Instead of replying, he turned on his heel and stalked down the stairs, leaving the young man behind to watch his back disappear to the darkness.

Nearly dying does some strange things to people and it was the same with forgiveness, even if it was partly undeserved. After the earlier conversation with Potter, Severus was suddenly, and with startling clarity, able to place the feeling that took hold of him whenever he was around Rose.

After his year as Headmaster, he had counted himself lucky to be granted access to the school. He had not expected anyone to allow him near their children ever again, yet here he was. Maybe soon a free man… And one that wanted a child, any child, to call his own…

Contrary to what he told Potter, he didn't go to dinner that evening, but ordered a meal to be had in his own quarters.

But his day wasn't over and he never got the chance to eat it. The moment he sat in his chair, he knew what was coming, what had been festering in him the entire week.

Maybe he should have seen it sooner. It was only a matter of time before it happened again.

His eyelids drooped.

The room was too warm and his limbs were too heavy and he suddenly found himself short of breath.

It felt like an invisible boot stepped down on his chest…

* * *

Monday evening, on the first day of Rose's time with Ron, Hermione decided to pay him a visit.

She had been preoccupied the second week of term, kept more than busy trying to curb an outbreak of a vomiting bug that spread like wildfire among the Ravenclaws. Over the weekend, however, and as the House Elves had put in extra efforts to de-contaminate the West Tower, the pressure of students requesting Borborygmys potion in the Infirmary had lessened and she was finally able to breathe more freely.

She had overheard Filius talking to Neville at dinner, discussing Severus, who had called in sick the previous Friday.

"Neville," Filius had said, stretching to peer over a large bowl of pea and ham soup, which obscured his view of the Deputy Headmaster. "Would you be so kind as to cover Potions tomorrow? Severus told me he needs another day and I understand you have the curriculum under reasonable control?"

"No problem." Neville replied with a smile. "I'm glad to use an opportunity to impress upon them the importance of Herbology." He hesitated. "Is it something serious, or…"

"Headcold," said Filius. "Poor chap seems rather susceptible, especially at this time of year. He should count himself lucky he's stayed away from the Ravenclaws." He winked at Michael Corner, who still looked a little green around the edges. "I'm sure Severus will be grateful to you, Neville."

Neville had shrugged half-heartedly, but Hermione's mind was already made up. Skipping pudding, she walked to the Dungeons after a detour by her own, empty quarters, where she spent an embarrassingly long time to decide which jumper to wear.

She found it curious that Severus kept away from the Hospital Wing if he was ill, but then again, he was probably well stocked on any old potion he would need against a simple cold. So what if he hadn't come to see her? Maybe he was just a little skittish around healers and hospitals. It would be understandable since his stay in St. Mungo's had been quite protracted after the war.

His rooms were close to the classroom used for Potions and as for all of the teacher's flats, the entrance was invisible to anyone apart from the Hogwarts staff. She knocked three times and opened the door a sliver of a fraction to peek inside.

"Severus?"

The sitting room, directly accessible through the entrance, was a mirror image of her own. It had standard furniture and a window facing into the Black Lake, where a school of tiny silver fish flitted in and out of the yellow-green weeds that grew on the bottom.

She noticed something hidden beneath a clever disillusionment charm on the kitchen counter, and a vaguely familiar odour in the room, mixing with that of books and burning tallow and what she had come to recognise as Severus' own, natural scent.

He rested on the sofa in front of the fireplace, seemingly taken completely off-guard because he made the most peculiar little sound of surprise in the back of his throat when he recognised her. There was an open book on his stomach and it slid to the floor when he jerked to raise himself up on an elbow.

"Hermione?" His voice was thicker than usual. She took a tentative step forward.

"Hi there," she said softly. "Mind if I come in?"

He nodded and sat up, fumbling to straighten the short-sleeved undershirt he wore. It was apparent that he did not know what to do with himself when caught in such an exposed position. Feeling like an intruder, she tried not to look at the faded Dark Mark on his left underarm or the raised, jagged scars from Nagini's bite that crossed his throat and disappeared beneath his collar. They both made something painful tighten in her throat.

"Filius mentioned you had a cold," she said lightly, swallowing the uneasy feeling and closing the door behind her back, "and here I was, thinking you had never taken a sick day in your life…"

"I know." He grimaced, revealing a set of crooked, yellowing teeth. "I'm sorry about the mess." He gestured to the coffee table, which hosted an abundance of abandoned teacups and magazines.

She smiled while secretly studying him with her healer's eye. The tone of his skin, which was sallow even on his best days, tended towards the sickly grey she usually associated with poor oxygenation of the blood.

"Don't mind that," she said kindly. "I live with Rose, I know everything there is to know about clutter. Surely, you know that too by now."

She crossed the floor to sit beside him, keenly aware that this was the closest she had ever been to him. So apparently, was he, because he watched her warily as she took in the way his hair was tucked behind his ears, which made some tousled grey strands of hair stand out, especially around his temples where the black was nearly completely eradicated.

She had never paid much attention to his appearance in her schooldays, too busy fretting over her grades, or Harry, or Ron. She had not even known his eye colour, though Harry had once, and with youthful melodrama, described them to her as 'black wells of hatred'. Now, though, they were less than three feet apart and she could see in his eyes –which were dark brown - something her childhood self had lacked the experience and maturity to recognise. It was the insecurity of someone who had been kicked in the teeth one time too many. Severus had probably never been good enough. She could see that clearly now, and her heart went out to him, from one overachiever to the next. She almost regretted making him uncomfortable, but that feeling warred with the desire to become so close to him that he would not mind her seeing his vulnerable sides.

But there was also a vague nagging at the back of her skull, telling her that there was something slightly off about this illness of his, that there had to be more to it than just a mere cold…

"Tea?" he offered, obviously very tired.

"Don't get up. I shan't stay long." She looked towards the kitchen. "What's the smell?" she asked. "Are you brewing Pepper-up?"

He stilled. "No, that's…"

"Is it for you?" She frowned, reaching out to touch his forehead, which felt hot and clammy. "I can tell you're not doing so well. Would you like me to cast a diagnostic?"

"No!"

She was suddenly glad she had not taken out her wand, because he pushed down her arm with unexpected ferocity and stood.

"No. I- Don't."

She pulled away quickly, taken aback by the sudden outburst.

"Alright…if you're sure…" She watched as he rubbed a hand over his face before he sank back down in his seat, his breathing slightly erratic.

"Forgive me," he said after a moment, looking up at her. "I didn't mean to frighten you. It's nothing, really. I'll be back to teaching tomorrow."

"That's good…" She shrugged it off, even though she was a little hurt. "Just let me know if you need anything…"

"I don't." He shook his head and folded his hands in his lap. "I've got… I can make the potions I need."

"Oh, I know." She clutched the beaded bag she had brought along, feeling a little silly. "I didn't mean it like _that_. I just thought…I don't know, if you wanted a book from the library or a specific sort of biscuit or something… I've…"

She cautiously reached out to poke him in the knee. "Rose drew a get-well card for you…she misses you."

His eyes softened, some of the tension giving way to a kind of tentative apprehension.

"She does?"

"Yes. She's been asking about you at every odd turn. She, err…" Hermione opened her bag and pulled out the card and a wrapped parcel. "We made you some sweets and everything. I hope you like caramel?"

He gave her an odd look, the frown line between his eyes deepening.

"They're home-made," she hurried to say. "It's Molly Weasley's recipe and she's excellent with confections, and cakes, and oh, with anything I suppose. But you probably know that already. Surely you must have sampled a meal of hers at one point or another?"

He stared and she slowly came to realise that he probably hadn't. "Well," she babbled on, "I guess it's about time then. I'm obviously not _her_ , but I personally think they turned out pretty well, all things considering. The first plate burned and maybe I overdid it slightly with the sugar, but they do taste good. Very sweet, but good."

Severus took the card from her, blinking several times as he read Rose's juvenile attempts at writing and traced a thumb over the crooked drawing of a man with long hair and a hooked nose.

"You did all that for _me_?"

"Isn't that what friends do?" Hermione chuckled nervously. "Who else would we cook caramels for? The Bloody Baron?" She leaned in to point at the drawing. "That is supposed to be you, by the way. Obviously, your head isn't attached directly to your belly and your knees couldn't possibly bend like that, but otherwise I think she's nailed you."

He sat very still for a moment, hiding his expression and leaving her hanging to chew on a fingernail, but it pleased her when he opened the parcel to take a caramel. He closed his eyes briefly as he took a bite.

"Mm."

"I know." She released a breath and took one for herself as well. "Rose had four or five of these yesterday. Made her so restless that I had to appparate to Harry's to let her spend some time with little James." She rolled her eyes. "That boy has a bell on every tooth and he's even more energetic than her. Poor Ginny. They played 'hippogriff' until half past seven in the evening. Couldn't hear my own thoughts, my ears were ringing so much from all the noise they made."

The irony of that statement suddenly stood out to her like a sore thumb. Severus had probably been sleeping peacefully until she arrived to chatter his ears off…

"I'm sorry." She winced. "I do tend to go on a bit when I'm… Well, anyway. I'll let you in peace, you do look like you could use some rest..."

"Wait." He surprised her by reaching out to touch her upper arm lightly. "Did you mean that?" he asked, swiftly removing his fingers.

"Yes, I…" She frowned, looking down at his hands, which had returned to the safety of his lap. "Did I mean what?"

"That we're…friends?"

"Oh." She chuckled. "Of course I do, I…err, I mean, if you're amenable, of course. I know I can be a bit too-"

"I am," he said quickly. "Amenable… Please stay."

She couldn't have stopped a smile from spreading on her face even if she had wanted to. "That's wonderful," she said, averting her eyes and feigning nonchalance, "because I brought you this as well…" She pulled a newspaper out of her bag. "It's _The Prophet_ from this morning. A load of drivel, I know, but I figured you'd be bored."

She looked up at him and as their eyes met, and there, for a fleeting second at the corners of his eyes, were the crinkles she had come to appreciate so much. She took a deep breath.

"I'll read it for you, if you'd like. Unless you're too tired?"

"You wouldn't mind?" He seemed almost shy, his eyes flitting back and forth between her hands and her face. "I know you must have much more important things to do than waste your time down here..."

"Don't be silly, Severus. I wouldn't have come if I didn't want to." She quickly looked away, busying herself with the front page. "So what do you want to hear about first? The 'Witch Wonder Scandal'… 'ghost's demands for housing benefits' or," she pointed at the top story, "the scheduled release from Azkaban?"

He slowly relaxed into the sofa, resting his head against the back. "Azkaban."

"Alright, then." She turned to the right page and shifted a little closer to him so that he could see the moving image of Minister Shacklebolt.

Inadvertently, the outside of her knee touched his thigh. Holding herself very still, she watched as his fingers twitched slightly. There was an odd feeling in her stomach and it was both powerful and strange.

"So, the Death Eaters who were imprisoned after the fall of You-Know-Who are to be released next year." She cleared her voice, which had become slightly lower than normal. "There has been some debate at the Ministry over how to handle the security measures and whether or not they should have their wands returned…"

She skipped over a large section where the vivacious journalist graciously offered some of his own opinions and resumed her reading at the interview with the Minister. "Well apparently," she said, "Shacklebolt has decided that they shall not. And also that they shan't be allowed to do magic at all, for obvious reasons…"

She continued to read until the end, not noticing before she had finished that Severus had fallen asleep next to her.

Floored, she watched him for a moment, listening to his soft snores and deep breathing before quietly folding up the paper and putting it on the coffee table along with the sweets and Rose's card.

Then she conjured a knitted blanket from her own rooms and draped it over him, careful not to disturb him. She brushed some hair from his face, smiling to herself at the way it was cut a little unevenly and squeezed his shoulder gently before she reluctantly left his flat, closing the door soundlessly behind her back.


	6. Plush Kitten

Fall had taken its firm hold of Scotland when Hern cornered him in public. Outside of Hogwarts, the air was crisp and clear, the smell of smoke from people's fireplaces an unyielding reminder that winter was soon on the way, and the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall sported grey clouds that promised rain.

Severus had recovered completely from his little break from teaching and he was on his way to dinner when a voice behind him made him stop in his track between the Slytherin and Gryffindor long tables.

"Professor Snape!"

The shout was loud enough for all the Great Hall to hear and he watched with displeasure as the students' eyes turned towards him.

"Professor." Hern caught up to him, a glint of mischief in his blue eyes. "I'm pleased I found you," he said. "Have you heard about my new idea?"

Severus shook his head, surreptitiously trying to edge forward so that the conversation didn't have to take place where everyone could hear. Hern though, grasped his arm and held him back.

"Wait," he said, his voice still louder than necessary. "You'll be interested to hear this. I have a new Defence project coming up and I need your expertise."

"Is it about the Duelling Club?" piped the Slytherin who was sitting closest to them. She looked up at the two professors, eagerness shining in her eyes. "You told us we'd be able to sign up…"

Severus was about to bark at her to mind her own business, but Hern got there first.

"Now, now," he said, twinkling down at the girl. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I'm going to need help from another teacher and I haven't even had the opportunity to ask Professor Snape yet." He turned to Severus, with a satisfied smile. "So, Severus. Help me give the students a real show so that they'll learn how to properly duel. What do you say? Professor Corner told me you did an excellent job with something similar a couple of years back."

Severus hesitated. He could see the expectant faces of the students looking up at him and he gritted his teeth against the cunning way that Hern had trapped him. At the Teacher's table, Hermione watched them with a frown between her eyes. Next to her, Filius smiled encouragingly.

"Filius might be willing, of course," said Hern, following his gaze, "but he _is_ rather busy. Besides, I don't think that even I could be a match against him…" He smiled cheekily, looking Severus up and down. "Against _you_ on the other hand…"

The challenge was too supercilious to be refused. Severus gave Hern a dark look, trying to ignore the way he felt hard done by. No doubt, the man was delighting in this opportunity to humiliate him.

"Fine," he said, jaw set. "But don't expect me to hold back. I'll have you know that the last teacher I duelled never managed to utter a single spell."

"I've heard," said Hern slyly. "Gilderoy Lockhart, was it?" He chuckled. "I'm sure he just decided to go easy on you…"

"Wicked!" The Slytherin girl looked up at them in awe before turning to her friends. "Did you hear that?" she said. "Hern is duelling Snape in front of the whole school, it's going to be a-"

Severus tried to shut out the students' excited chatter as he made it to his seat, willing himself not to hear words such as 'blood-bath' and 'gore'. He had been played and now he would have to face the consequences. Surreptitiously, he glanced at the smug, young man who sat beside him. They weren't evenly matched, that much was obvious. Severus' effort in the war had been more about the battle of minds than bodies and the last time had duelled anything that could stand its ground was when Hagrid's hippogriff sliced open his arm after he had killed Dumbledore.

Even then, he'd turned and fled.

Hern caught him looking and put his fork down. "Good sport," he said with a grin. "For a moment there I actually thought you were going to refuse."

Severus picked at his dinner, wishing he had. He could feel Hermione's eyes on them and for the first time in a while, he just wanted her to look elsewhere.

* * *

The following week, as Hermione went through her bookkeeping, she had taken some time off to search for Severus' medical record. Poppy had kept a file for each teacher in a separate closet from the students' files. Usually, there weren't many recordings in them, only the odd request for a potion or another, together with lists of allergies and any permanent medications, but for some, like Severus, who had also been students of Hogwarts, the files were rather thick.

Most of the recordings were from the time before he started to teach, and there were several instances of hexing and broken bones, but she also found that he had been indisposed on several occasion as a young teacher due to potion accidents. Before 1981, there were also many signs of his perilous position in the war, with injuries to both mind and body, and she quickly passed by record after record of _cruciatus_ damage, curses, and prescriptions for stress medication and anti-depressants.

She slowed down when she reached the years of her own schooling, taking a kind of wistful interest in reading about that time from another's perspective. She noted that in her first year, Severus received a tetanus vaccine, no doubt after his squabble with Fluffy, and smiled to herself while learning that in her second year, he had his hand treated for burns after trying to invent a potion to reverse an animal-hair-polyjuice accident in a student.

Then there was the year of the Dementors, when he got a concussion from being hit by three stunners at once and increasing bouts of insomnia and stomach pain as they neared the time of Voldemort's resurrection. At the end was his stint as a spy in the second war against Voldemort, which was less than pleasant reading, the mildest entries being repeated occurrences of a dislocated shoulder.

Hermione read them with a bad feeling in her stomach. It wasn't any of her business and even if she was the resident Mediwitch, she had no right to snoop around just to satisfy her own curiosity. The record, though, was oddly blank after Severus returned to teaching after his trial. With her questions unresolved, she returned the file to the cabinet. Maybe the best thing was just to ask him about it. It was after all the decent thing to do.

However, something else did come out of that day. As she went through her bookkeeping afterwards, she made a rather peculiar discovery, which made her check Cavan's schedule quickly and head in the direction of the third floor: Angel's Trumpet was missing from the monthly summary.

She opened the door to the Defence classroom, crossing the floor beneath the skeleton of a small dragon, which still hung suspended from the ceiling. Cavan's office was located on top of a small stone staircase at the front of the room and she knocked briskly on the door that bore his name.

"Cavan?"

He was sitting behind his desk, grading papers with a quill that looked like it must have come off an Eagle Owl. He wore a handsome forest green robe with silver lining, which did a good job of emphasising the strength of his upper body.

"Hermione!" He smiled brightly. "Long time, no see. If I hadn't known better, I might almost have thought you were avoiding me."

"Of course not." She smiled as well. "Why would I do that?" She busied herself with looking around his office, secretly wondering if there was a smidgeon of truth to that statement. If it was, it hadn't been intentional, at least not completely...

There were several objects on his desk that she recognised from Harry's office at the Auror Department and he had a large dummy in one corner, similar to those they had used in the Room of Requirement when practicing defensive spells for Dumbledore's Army. Otherwise, the room was much as she remembered it from Umbridge's reign, except from the all the horrible cats and ghastly furniture.

"What brings your bright presence to my corner of the world then?" asked Cavan. "Have you finally decided to come to Hogsmeade this weekend?"

He had asked her about it some days previous, but she had held back on her reply, not sure if she wanted to join the 'work night out', which some of the staff had instigated on Friday evenings. She suddenly regretted that she hadn't thanked him no from the get go.

"No, actually," she said a little hesitantly, "it's not about that. I…" She pulled the bookkeeping folder half-way out from her charmed bag. "My errand is of a more…economical nature."

"Right." He straightened immediately. "Actually I've been meaning to talk to you for a couple of days, but I've been a little busy with a side project I'm planning." He looked around his office and pulled his wand from a holster in his lower arm. "We'll have to go to the library though. Catherine found something, you see. In an old Ministry notification from just after the war against Voldemort."

"Really?" Hermione blinked. "I don't see what that-"

"I'll show you." He placed a hand on her back, guiding her out of the office and cast a series of complex spells to secure the door. Hermione hurried down the stairs, not all that eager to be touched so familiarly as they walked through the corridors.

They met up with Catherine Poe in the Library, choosing a group of tables in a spot where she could observe the entrance and her desk, but without being overheard. The librarian placed a folded Ministry pamphlet before them and pointed at the date on the top of the front page.

"24th of October, 1998," she said. Catherine was in her mid-thirties, a quiet and gentle soul who, much like Hermione, preferred to spend her time with her nose buried in a book. She looked at Cavan. "I found it with a modified _accio_ , targeting books or papers containing the search term you provided. There's a whole bunch of these pamphlets in the newspaper section, but only one had the words you wanted."

Hermione sat down to read. The pamphlet contained a list of forbidden artefacts and potions, many of them clearly made from, or meant to aid Dark Magic. Cavan came to stand alongside her, leaning over her shoulder to open it at the last page, entitled 'Substances'.

"Look here," he said, pointing at an entry a little way down the list. "Angel's Trumpet."

"So…" Hermione rubbed her chin. "It was forbidden just after the war? Is it still…?"

"I assume so." Cavan lingered by her side. "I was confused, you see, because it isn't illegal in France, just here."

"Why would that be?"

"Don't know yet," he said, "but it will be easy to find out. I'm going to pay a visit to the Improper Use of Magic Office this weekend. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation. Thank you, Chaterine."

"You're welcome." She smiled at them and went back to her desk. Cavan sat down beside Hermione.

"So," he said. "What was it you wanted to show me?" He nodded at her bag and she opened it, pulling out the familiar red file.

"The accounting for this month is done," she said. "But it isn't there anymore."

Cavan blinked. "The entries stopped?"

"It seems so." She sighed. "Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but… It's been there every month as far back as I have had the time to search, yet now, it's suddenly disappeared. It seems like whoever did it is onto us knowing about it."

"Perhaps." Cavan pulled the folder closer to him. "Are any of the old entries erased?"

"No." She shook her head. "Just the new one, which didn't appear. Do you think we should go through all the different files?"

"I'll certainly check Defence," he said. "But going through all of them… That sounds like a lot of work."

"I agree. But what do we do then?"

Cavan shut the folder. "We report it," he said. "I'll take it up with Filius and file a testimony when I visit the Ministry. At least our hands will be clean."

"Good." She sat back in her chair, leaning her hand on the table and watching the lobby, where a large group of sixth-years had just arrived to the Library, accompanied by Severus. He had probably assigned them a difficult research project and she smiled, attempting to catch his eye, but he seemed to have his hands full with signing permission slips for his students.

Cavan, who sat with his back towards the door, didn't seem to notice. After a moment of silence, she could feel his hot gaze upon her.

"There's something in your hair…"

He leaned forward to pick a quill out from the bun at the nape of her neck.

"Oh…" She felt her face redden, from both embarrassment and awkwardness. "So that's where it went…"

"Yeah." Cavan let the tip of the quill trace a path along her jaw in a way she was sure was meant to be teasing. "You do that a lot," he said. "I've even seen you with one at dinnertime. It's quite charming, actually."

Hermoine wondered if that move had landed him many dates in the past, but she soon had other things to think about as Cavan's placed his hand on top of her own. Just then, Severus straightened from his paperwork, accidentally meeting her gaze. She froze and he quickly looked away.

"I think you're attractive," said Cavan close by her ear. "I'll be a very happy man if you join us to Hogsmeade this weekend."

"I don't know, Cavan…" Trapped, she tried to think of a way to move her hand away without coming across as rude. She had a child to care for and a new job to settle into. A casual fling was far out of the question and she wasn't ready to share her life with anyone other than Rose at the moment…at least not with him. She tried to appear apologetic.

"Maybe we can go together sometime?" asked Cavan, a little more hesitantly, "just the two of us…?"

He squeezed her hand and let go.

"Just think about it…"

They wrapped up their job in the library to go each their separate ways, but Hermione didn't care all that much about the forbidden flower any more.

She couldn't shake from her mind the way Severus had tensed when he discovered them in the library. As he raised his dark eyes at her, something akin to hurt had flashed across his face and the frown line that crossed his forehead had deepened. She suspected that he must have misunderstood the situation entirely.

So on Friday, when Ron had a match night and Rose was due for a sleepover at Hogwarts, she busied herself with tidying her rooms, finding herself a little guilty about her newly formed plan to use her daughter as a decoy. When classes were over, she picked her up from day school in Hogsmeade, trailing behind her as they made it down to the Dungeons to Severus' door. Rose, who seemed to know her way by heart, knocked and waited.

"Enter," came Severus' muffled voice, "unless your name is Hern."

They did, finding him bent over a stack of books on the floor, which he seemed to be sorting into his shelves. He stood a little straighter when he noticed who it was and Hermione hid a small smile behind her hair. Unlike earlier, when he had seemed tired and drawn, there was a lot more energy to his movements and his face was back to its usual shade of sallow.

"Sev'rus!"

Rose skipped first into the room with obvious familiarity, her eyes immediately landing on his fireplace. She clapped her hands together. "You kept it!"

Severus's eyes softened and Hermione followed his gaze to the get-well card, which was perched on the mantle. "Of course I did," he said. "It isn't every day that I have my portrait drawn, you know."

Rose grinned and skipped over to the window, through which Hermione could see that the water in the Black Lake was a lot muddier than last time she had been there. She went over to the fireplace to have a look at the card once more.

"Did the Grindylows pick a fight with the Giant Squid again?" asked Rose, placing her small palm on the glass.

"Yes," said Severus distractedly, "I don't see why they bother though, the squid always wins…" He looked questioningly at Hermione.

"What's up between you and Cavan Hern?" she asked, fingering the card in her hands. "Did you have a disagreement?"

"Oh that." She heard him sigh as he cast his eyes at Rose as though to make sure she wasn't listening in. "No, no. Nothing special."

She raised her eyebrows sceptically. "Liar."

"Alright, fine." He looked at her askance. "You must have guessed already that he isn't my favourite person..."

"Yeah, I knew..." She shrugged airily. "I was just wondering why. Cavan seems friendly enough though. I think he's-"

"Cavan?" Severus scowled. " _Friendly_?" His colour rose as he said it, unable, it seemed, to hold in his resentment.

Hermione blinked. "Yes, I suppose. He doesn't strike me as someone who would pick a fight just for the sake of it…"

"Well." Severus shook his head, seemingly making an effort to rid himself of the thought of the man. "You might be right about that. But it doesn't mean that I have to like him."

Hermione suddenly regretted having said anything. The pleasant atmosphere was spoiled, making her mission a lot harder than it needed have been. She cast around for a change of subject, but was suddenly saved by Rose, who seemed to have given up the search for Merepeople as a bad job.

"Can I have a caramel, Sev'rus?" She tugged on his cloak and pointed to the kitchen.

Severus eased out of his tense stance, turning to look down at her. "Not now, Rose," he said with a glance at Hermione. "You'll have dinner soon, I'm sure. Another time."

"Please," she whined, and Hermione was about to admonish her when Severus took hold beneath her arms and lifted her as though she weighed nothing onto the kitchen counter, which was now free of hidden artefacts.

"You can't have one," he said, leaning closer, "because there aren't any left." He widened his eyes dramatically, whispering to her as though it was a secret although Hermione could hear him clearly. "I ate them all!"

Rose giggled delightedly and reached out to play with his long hair. "Did you?" She looked at Hermione with sparkling eyes, "and Mum let you?"

He nodded, deadpan, keeping still so that Rose could touch him as she pleased. "Every single one. But she doesn't know that yet."

"I don't think she'll yell at you," said Rose gently as she moved her fingers clumsily over his forehead and nose. "Even if you spoiled your appetite. Because I think-"

"Hah…" Hermione cleared her voice. "I'm right here, you know," she said, singsong. "Your secret isn't so secret anymore, Severus." She nudged his side. "And you shouldn't eat so many sweets, even if I did give them to you." She gave a pointed look at Rose. "They're not very healthy."

She said the words almost automatically, secretly marvelling at the way he seemed so carefree and relaxed around her daughter, allowing her to poke and prod at his face without the slightest hesitation. She had no idea he could be that mild and lenient towards anyone, yet couldn't deny the tiny stab of envy, borne from the desire that _she_ would be the one to touch him so easily.

Severus turned to Hermione, traces of recent laughter lingering around his eyes and mouth. "Your mother is right," he said, looking straight at her, "but I don't care."

"Why not?" Rose leaned forward, bracing herself on his arm as she slid down to the floor.

He smoothed down her hair, making the gesture seem like the most natural thing in the world. "Because they were the best caramels I've ever had."

Startling them both, Rose wrapped her arms around his waist in a spontaneous hug. His eyes widened as she squeezed him, betraying the astonishment that always seemed to accompany Rose's affections towards him. He shook his head once in disbelief before tentatively wrapping a large hand around her back, the shield of his cloak swallowing her tiny arms.

"My, Severus," said Hermione lightly. "I didn't know you had a sweet-tooth like that, it seems you're even worse than Rose is."

"I- ah…apparently…" He almost seemed bereft when Rose broke free from his hold and skipped over to Hermione to pick the card out of her hand. She figured she could get him to agree to almost anything at that moment.

"So," she said, "we decided to invite you to have dinner with us tonight. We're having bangers and mash, with chocolate pudding for dessert. What do you say? Hungry?"

He searched her expression guardedly, his eyes finally landing upon Rose's hopeful face as she was placing his card back on the mantle. "I suppose I could eat…Where would…?"

"My place," said Hermione, "I have a kitchen just like yours. We often take dinner there, especially when Rose is home. I prefer it to the Great Hall anyway."

"Then I'd be delighted to…"

"Sev'rus?"

Both the adults turned.

"What's this?" Rose picked a beautifully crafted compass with brass casing from the mantle, close to where the card had stood. She studied it reverently, watching the tiny needle spin.

"It's a compass." Severus walked towards her and grasped her hand lightly to level it. "It shows you which way to go."

"Really? Towards what?"

He chuckled softly. "Not like that. Seamen used it when they were out on the open ocean so that they wouldn't get lost even though they couldn't see land." He opened the casing fully for her, indicating the cross of arrows. "See that? It's called the rose. It shows the cardinal directions and if you turn it so that the needle meets the red mark, it shows you which way is north."

"Like this?" Rose fumbled for a moment, twisting it this way and that.

"Just so." He pointed towards the door. "If you go that way and don't stop, you'll end up on the Pole."

"Is it magical?" Rose frowned. "Mum says that some muggle things won't work inside Hogwarts."

"This one does." He took it from her, squinting down at the engraved letters. "It doesn't run on electricity. The needle is magnetised, you see. It makes it align itself along the Earth's longitudinal axis."

Rose watched him, apparently captivated by this fantastical tale. "Why do you have it?" she asked in awe, making Hermioine smile. "Don't you know which way to go?"

"I don't always know…" Severus trailed off, seeming lost to a memory or thought. "But I have never used it like that." He closed the lid. "It was a gift from your Uncle Harry."

"Was it?" Rose's eyes widened in wonder. "Why would he give you this?"

Severus traced the rim of the casing with a finger before stealing a glance towards Hermione. She smiled encouragingly, feeling just as spellbound as Rose. As they spoke, she had been secretly watching his lips move. When they weren't pressed together in a sneer, they looked soft. And although they were thin, they were well shaped, especially the bow of his upper lip. They were, she decided, perhaps his best feature, and she wouldn't mind getting to know them a little more intimately.

"Because I…helped him, in a way," he said. "I suppose he feels that I protected him, just as the compass does to the sailors on the sea." He suddenly chuckled, sending shivers up Hermione's back.

"That," he added ruefully, "and maybe he thinks that I sometimes need to be shown which road to take."

Rose hummed. "That makes sense."

He looked at her through his hair. "You can have it, if you'd like."

"What?" Rose's mouth dropped open, astonishment and concern warring to dominate her features. "But you need it for yourself!"

"No…" He held it out to her, something tender floating past his expression as he watched her. "No, I don't think so. Not anymore."

"That is a very precious gift, I think," said Hermione. Rose nodded earnestly, and then picked it out of Severus' larger hand, examining it as though she saw it for the first time.

"Thank you." She flashed them a brilliant grin, grasping the compass in one hand and Severus' hand in the other. "Can we go now?" she asked eagerly, "I want to put it in my treasure box."

"Certainly." Hermione smiled. "If Severus agrees?"

He did and they walked to the first floor, Rose skipping along beside him, never once letting his hand go, even when he stopped to scold a group of third-years for littering the corridor with chocolate frog wrappings. For some reason he didn't seem as annoyed as Hermione would have expected, too distracted to dock points perhaps.

Their rooms were adjacent to the Hospital Wing, which was empty now, Hermione finally having a night off after dismissing her latest patient the day before, a certain Anton Clearwater, deeming him fully recovered after a nasty accident involving a spell that supposedly was meant to cure acne.

Hermione cooked dinner while Rose showed Severus her room, secretly enjoying the way his deep voice filled the air as she listened to soft sounds of their conversation through the bedroom door. It was strange to have a man in her flat again. After all this time, she had become used to Rose as her sole companion, and Severus was so distinctly dissimilar to Ron.

Not only was he taller and darker and older, but the most striking difference was perhaps their personalities. Ron was so easy to read that they had hardly needed conversation at all. She always knew what he was thinking, and it had never been difficult for her to anticipate and sometimes, she had to admit, maybe even manipulate his reactions.

Severus on the other hand, was much more guarded. He needed cajoling before he would share anything and there was that deeply set suspicion in him to overcome before she could gain his trust. He was also somewhat touchy, which sometimes threw her for a loop when trying to guess what his feelings were. She had no idea if that reflected a more intricate, wary soul or if it was simply because she knew Ron so well. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't boring.

His presence though, felt magical, and she revelled in it as they ate. When she talked, he listened and it pleased her to no end each time she managed to tease out that hard-won smile to grace his face. Rose seemed even more enthralled to have her 'Sev'rus' over, chatting freely about her friends in school and about Ginny's new kitten, a comfort present she had got herself while waiting for Harry to come around to them having their third child.

"More pudding, Severus?"

He placed his napkin on the table, simultaneously rescuing Rose's abandoned cutlery from falling to the floor. "Thank you, no," he said absently, putting his free hand on his stomach. "I've had more than I probably should."

"Then I'm glad you enjoyed it." Hermione smiled as she reached over to relieve him of the fork and gather their plates. "I realise it's not the most high-end meal I could have served, but since it's a weeknight…" She nodded her head at Rose.

"It was perfect." He leaned back in his chair, watching the girl, whose eyelids had started to droop.

"I guess it's bedtime," whispered Hermione. "She is usually asleep by eight, unless it's the weekend."

"Not tired," mumbled Rose, supporting her head in her hand. Hermione rolled her eyes.

Severus stood and stretched, a joint in his arm popping. "I suppose I'll leave you to it then…"

"No, wait." Hermione pointed him over to the sitting room before he could go and fetch his cloak. "You don't have to leave," she said quickly. "If you give me a moment to get Rose ready, I'll be back in no time. I think I even have some port in a cupboard somewhere…"

"Alright." He trailed over to her sofa, taking in the various knitted blankets she kept around. "Unless you'd rather I come back another time?" He watched her uncertainly. "I don't want to intrude…"

"No, no, have a seat." She waved him off, having no desire to see him leave already. "Rose just needs her teeth brushed and her hair combed and we can sit for a moment. I know _I_ need to relax a bit after a long day."

But before she could finish all that, she had to come back in after him, ordered there by a very determined little girl.

"She wants to say goodnight to you." Hermione winced. "And…a story…"

Severus chuckled. To her relief, he didn't seem to mind and she followed him to Rose's room, watching from the door as she searched through a pile of children's books for her favourites.

"Sev'rus…" She yawned. "Would you read me a story please?"

"I'd be honoured." He crouched down next to her, picking up a book at random to examine. "Which one do you want?"

"This one." She held up an old one of Hermione's from when she was a girl. It was battered and dog-eared, and even as she stood there by the door, she could vividly recall the smell of the yellowing pages and the leather binding.

"Good choice." Obviously familiar with the title, Severus took the book from Rose and pulled a chair over to her bedside. He settled comfortably with the book resting on his chest and squinted down at the pages. Momentarily, Hermione felt a thrill of anticipation that he'd put his glasses on, but to her disappointment, he refrained.

Rose hurried to the bed, snuggling into her blanket and watching him with sleepy eyes and a smile on her lips. "I'm ready."

He opened to the first page, and once again, his soothing baritone voice filled the bedroom.

"The Mole," he read, "had been working very hard all morning, spring-cleaning his little home…"

* * *

Severus had fully expected Hermione to throw him out when he noticed that Rose started to nod off and was surprised to find himself by her bedside, reading her a story as though she were his own.

The thought didn't even frighten him. Instead of feeling out of his element, or place, it was like coming home and he found his thoughts straying whimsically to Ronald Weasley. The idea of someone willingly giving up on something this precious was so foreign to him that he wondered if it was at all possible that they had experienced the same thing…

"She's asleep."

Hermione was standing by the door, watching them with a soft smile on her lips. In her bed, Rose was breathing evenly, a small hand curled up beside her collarbone. He watched her for a moment, stealing a few short seconds of complete peace before he grunted and got up, closing the book silently and turning to join Hermione in the sitting room.

"Were you listening to all that?"

Her hair was wild from the work she had put into cooking their meal and getting Rose ready for bed, but her eyes sparkled in the dim lighting from the wall sconces.

"I love that story," she said, "and you have a great reader's voice. Ron always went too quickly and mine is far too shrill to do Badger convincingly."

"I bet you could do Otter, though." Severus smirked. "And perhaps even Rat."

"My patronus is an otter," she said, off-hand.

"Really?" He watched her, surprised that she would share such a personal piece of information. "I can't recall…"

"Understandable," she said lightly as she went over to her kitchen cabinet. "It's been a long time since you saw it. Do you like tawny port? I personally think we don't drink enough of it in Britain." Her voice became muffled as she climbed upon a chair to reach her the top shelf. "I learned to appreciate it while on holiday in France, but over there they have it before dinner, which I think is a bit mad. But then again, it is France after all, so why not..."

"Yes, please." He had hardly tasted it before, apart from the odd Christmas party, but wasn't about to deny her anything if it only meant he could stay a little longer. When she was back with a black bottle in hand, he pointed at the top button of his coat.

"Do you mind?"

She shook her head quickly. "Of course not. Make yourself at home."

She watched him as he removed his coat and he had to fight off a slight awkwardness as he sat there in front of her in just a white shirt.

"Sorry," he muttered, putting the jacket to the side. "It's a little uncomfortable."

"No matter." Her voice was somewhat shrill as she leaned in to pour his glass. "I can imagine you stand for most of the starching the elves have to do." She raised her eyes, which had a playful glint to them. "You always dress the same, though. I don't think I've ever seen you wear anything else…"

"My parents didn't have much money when I was a boy," he said. "I suppose I did look a little scruffy and I was teased about it in school, so when I was older I became determined not to let anyone see me like that again."

"Mm." She watched him over her glass. "What did your parents do for a living?"

"Father worked at a Mill…" He felt the corners of his mouth pull down. "At least for the time when he was able to sustain a job. Mother stayed at home…she was a witch." He stared when Hermione nodded. "You knew that?"

"I researched it once." She tilted her head and he could feel her gaze on his skin through the shirt. "When Harry found your old potions textbook, I looked up the name Prince in the Library and found her in an old yearbook. Did you ever play Gobstones yourself?"

"Yes." He frowned. "But never at her level…"

He wondered what else she knew about him and how much of his memories Potter had revealed to her, deciding that anything she might not know, he was certainly not going to tell her, but she broke him out of his thoughts with an odd sound that almost resembled a chuckle.

"Oh, Severus." She reached out to touch his forehead, where he knew he had a deep wrinkle between his eyes. Smiling slightly, she smoothed it out with her thumb. "You worry too much, don't be so suspicious. What does it matter if I know?"

He might have told her that it did matter quite a bit to him, and that he'd rather she knew as little as possible about the less stellar moments of his life, but at that moment, he couldn't bring himself to care. Because as she dropped her hand from his forehead, it landed briefly, but undeniably on his chest, making a trail of burning skin around to his shoulder.

It might have been accidental. And judging from Rose's behaviour, her family was most definitely a tactile lot. Hermione most likely behaved like this with all her acquaintances and he certainly wasn't used to this kind of thing. For all he knew, she probably brought friends and family over to dinner, touching their faces all the time. But although she certainly seemed friendly with Longbottom and Abbott, he had to wonder if she had done that to her colleagues…

Had she ever invited Hern?

Unconsciously, he flexed his left arm, which had become stiff from the unyielding grip he had on his glass.

"Does it hurt?"

He startled. "What?"

"That." She pointed at his hand. "It bothers you sometimes, I can tell. Will you let me have a look?"

He shook his head. "It's just the-"

"I know what it is." Hermione leaned towards him, beckoning impatiently to his arm. "Don't tell me you think I'll be frightened or repulsed." She scoffed. "I _am_ a healer, you know. It takes a lot to do the first and the second even more. I've seen a Dark Mark before."

"I know..." Chastised, he extended his hand to her, allowing her to loosen the single button on his cuff and roll up his sleeve.

The mark stood out in all its glory, faded and sickly pale with blue veins underneath, but on Hermione's face was not disgust or horror. She traced it with a finger, her brow furrowed in concentration, but also, he noted, sadness and compassion.

"I've never seen another curse quite like it," she said contemplatively. "But then again, my specialty was afflictions of the mind so… Is there no way to remove it?"

"Not that I know of." He watched the top of her head, fighting off the desire to inch closer. "Is that where you worked then? The Janus Thickey Ward?"

"Yes." She nodded, her fingers still scorching a hole in his arm. "For six years, actually, but I couldn't stay. It was hard to work with the…"

She trailed off, her hands going limp, and he gently took back his arm to fasten the sleeve.

"Lockhart was there for some time," she said absently. "I actually found it a little sad that Cavan would snatch up on that duelling club idea of his..."

Severus shifted. The port tasted a little too much like plum for his taste, but it worked miracles on his nerves and after some time, he found himself leaning back in his seat with an arm draped over the sofa's armrest. At the mention of Hern, though, he was unable to hold back a groan.

But Hermione ignored him, seeming lost to a memory. "Not sad in _that_ respect," she said. "I think it's a great initiative, but…" She looked up, a slight blush creeping up on her cheeks. "I sort of had a schoolgirl crush on him." She winced. "Before he was revealed as a fraud, that is."

His eyes narrowed. "Really?"

She laughed; a light, sonorous sound, reminding him of a bell. "I am an idiot, I know." Her face turned serious again. "But it was awful in the end. Ron's wand wiped his memory and he ended up not knowing his own name for years."

He knew he was supposed to follow along on her story, but Severus couldn't help but feel a stab of disappointment. Was that what Hermione's type of man was like? Like Lockhart?

Somehow, he had pictured her not caring about his uneven teeth and greasy hair or that he wasn't toned or young. For some reason, he had thought that she was different from Lily. Lily, who knew that Potter was an arrogant bully, but liked him nonetheless because he was rich and handsome. Lily, who flirted with Potter all the while as the Marauders were tormenting him…

Now, he wasn't so sure anymore. He had thought Hermione wasn't like that, but after all, she was the one who had been married to a rich, successful athlete for nearly ten years. And now, to learn that she had fancied Lockhart… The leap to Cavan Hern wasn't far at all, especially when considering that the man was actually versed in more than just one spell.

He turned quickly when he felt a hand on his arm.

"Severus?" Hermione was watching him, a small smile dancing around her eyes and mouth. "I seem to have lost you there."

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "So did he recover in the end?"

"Who? Oh, Lockhart?" She sighed. "Well, he's better. It was a gradual process, not that he remembers anything, but at least he can function on his own again. He was released a couple of years ago."

She looked away. "I did feel awfully bad about it for a long time. Ron and Harry thinks he deserved it, but… It was horrible what happened to him." She turned towards him again, the frown between her eyes deepening. "You know, I erased my parents' memories during the war…I…" She scrubbed a hand over her cheek. "I thought it was my job to protect them..."

"Oh…" Severus didn't know quite what to say. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but felt a little selfish for it in the face of her sorrowful tone.

"Anyway. I know better now." She looked towards Rose's bedroom. "It should never have been my decision to make. They didn't recover, you see, and I suppose that's why I started on my healer studies. A pity that I couldn't follow through, but I… I don't know. Memory spells… they just give me the chills."

"I'm sorry to hear that." He watched her through his hair. "But I don't think you should feel bad. I've had my share of deeds best left undone." He jerked his head in an attempt to shake it from his mind. "And that's putting it gently. At least yours had good intent at its heart. Did you ever find them?"

"Thank you." She smiled. "Yes. We visit them occasionally. Although they have no idea who I am. And they forget about us between each time…"

There was a soft, sound behind him and they both turned to see Rose standing by the bedroom door in her pyjamas, a stuffed kitten in her hands.

"Mum?" She hurried over to the sofa, climbing onto Hermione's lap.

"What's the matter, sweetie?" Hermione petted her hair. "Did you wake up?"

She huddled into her mother's side, eyes large as she held the kitten tight. "I think there's a monster in the wardrobe..."

Hermione rolled her eyes, giving Severus an apologetic look. He smiled.

"It's late," he said, standing from his seat. "I'll be on my way."

Hermione stood as well, the girl in her arms. "Yes I suppose it's bedtime for all of us." She yawned discreetly. "I enjoyed this a lot though, Severus. Thanks for coming over."

"Sev'rus." Rose reached out for him, the other arm still hooked around Hermione's neck. "Mum," she said, "I want a goodnight hug from Sev'rus. He didn't give me one before."

"Oh, alright." Hermione huffed, moving closer so that she could reach him.

He closed his eyes as Rose pressed her tiny cheek to his, her gentle scent, mixed with that of children's toothpaste draping over him like a blanket. "Goodnight Rose," he said, working to conceal the slight catch in his voice. "Sleep well."

"Alright." Hermione said, as Rose pulled away. "I've got a monster to tackle, but I trust you can find your way out on your own."

"Of course." He nodded, picking up his coat from the sofa's armrest. But instead of leaving, Hermione shifted Rose on her hip, freeing an arm, which she placed on his shoulder.

"I want a goodnight hug as well," she said quietly. She watched his face in some apprehension. "If you don't mind…"

He didn't mind at all, but was too perplexed to speak. His stupid heart had made such a violent lurch that he wondered if he was about to suffer a heart attack and for a moment, he almost feared that she would interpret his silence as a refusal. But then, instead of hugging him, she leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, her curly hair tickling his chin and neck.

"Goodnight, Severus." She smiled, the skin next to her eyes and nose crinkling. "Sleep tight."

Only after they had disappeared into Rose's bedroom, did he regain his senses.

It was uncanny how Hermione seemed able to take anything in stride, while he was left floundering like a lost sheep, feeling like he was just waiting for the world to come down on his head. It was among his biggest faults. He loved too deeply. Just as he hated too deeply as well. He always invested too much, he knew this. In every endeavour, he would give everything he had and this applied more than anything to the people he cared about. He rarely cared that much for anyone, of course, but when he did, it was with an intensity and loyalty that would exhaust him. It was one of the reasons why there hadn't been a woman for him after Lily. It had taken him decades to get over that love and the devastating rejection that went with it. Pathetically, perhaps, he had felt that solitude was safer.

"Goodnight," he said to the empty room. Then he picked his cloak up from the peg by the door before casting one last look towards Rose's room as though wanting to imprint the image of the two people in his mind's eye forever.

If he never saw them again, then at least he had this.


	7. They Say He Was a Death Eater

**A/N**

 **I was asked a couple of times how long this story is going to be. If anyone else is interested to know, I'd say we're probably about half-way now.**

 **Also, if there were a house called Turtleuff or Snailindor, I'd be sorted there instantly. None of my stories are abandoned, but I'm so terribly caught up in work these days that I have very little time for recreation. I do hope though, that someone remembers this little fic all the same. If you got this far, then thanks a million for reading.**

* * *

Even on sunny days, the brittle November light only reached the top of the thatched cottages in Hogsmeade and the streets below were cast in dark shades this late in the afternoon.

It was the time of year when people are always cold because they haven't yet remembered to put on enough clothes and Hermione huddled inside her brown wool cloak, longing for the warming effect of a well-brewed pepper-up, even though she didn't actually have a cold.

The bell on the door of Schrivenshaft's Quill Shop jingled as she held it open for Rose to pass beneath her arm. Surprising her, the girl squealed once outside, and jumped towards the outline of a tall man who was walking down the street, his shoulders hunched against the sleet and rain.

"Sev'rus!"

He stopped when he realised who it was and allowed Rose to jump around him in a sort of dancing hug.

"Isn't it wonderful?" she chirped, "it's finally snowing!"

"Er, I suppose…"

He looked up towards the grey sky –calling what fell on his face 'snow' was a far stretch, even for a five-year old– and then towards Hermione, seeming only mildly exasperated. She approached more slowly, taking in his heavy cloak and the brown paper bag beneath his arm with curiosity.

"Hello, Severus. You're looking a little…caught out. What are you up to?"

She looked up the street from where he had come, following the prints of his boots in the grey slush. "Honeydukes? What did you want to get in there for?"

"I ah, actually, I was…"

She blinked at him, not comprehending.

"Oh, all right," he growled, clutching the package a little tighter. "I was after some caramels."

"Caramels?" She grinned.

"Yes." He scowled. "Caramels. I've been craving them ever since you made me those homemade ones after I had the..." He broke her gaze. "Anyway. Now you know. Is your curiosity satisfied?"

She laughed. "Oh, but you have it bad. You'll have to watch out so that you'll not get addicted."

He shook his head at her. "It's a little late for that, I think. They can't really measure up to yours though." He watched her through his hair.

"Good for you, Severus." She reached out to touch his arm. I'm glad you enjoy them. We can make you more if you like."

She watched him fondly. "And I remember you from when I was in school," she said in a softer voice. "You didn't appear to appreciate life much back then. Now, at least, you're able to find pleasure in the small things." She grinned at him, askance. "It shows."

"What?" She had meant it as a compliment, but he gave a crooked grimace. "Are you trying to tell me I've put on weight?"

"No!" Her cheeks turned hot, despite the chilly air. "I mean, you did, but not in a bad way. At all. I think you look good. Great, in fact."

"Oh, well." He huffed and she could see the breath steaming from his nose and mouth. "It catches up with everyone, I suppose."

"I suppose…"

She could think of nothing better to say, too busy worrying over having given her cards away. To her relief, Severus seemed not to have taken much notice.

They watched Rose in silence for a moment as she ran back and forth in the sleet, trying to catch snowflakes with her tongue. The last of the students were leaving Madame Puddifooot's Tea Shop, huddled together and hand-in-hand, and a few of the kids from town were playing at a nearby playground. It was already growing dark.

"Are you going back home?" She waved a hand towards the edge of the village, where the Astronomy tower peaked up against the Scottish countryside.

He nodded, rubbing his gloved hands together and stomping his feet against the cold. There were several grey-white flakes on his shoulders and head, and he made no move to brush them off, but just allowed them to melt gradually into his hair, making it stick to his forehead and cheeks. "And you?"

She shivered. Her mittens were wet from before and her hair probably looked like a dead animal. "Home. I'm freezing." She hugged her elbows. "I wish we could apparate directly."

"I wouldn't recommend it." Severus straightened his back. "It's a little jarring, going through the wards like that."

She felt her eyes go wide. "You can do that?"

"I could," he said. "Ever since I was headmaster. But please don't tell Potter that. The Board would rather I keep a low profile because of my days as a…" He glanced at Rose. "Well, you know what I mean. Anyway, Hogwarts doesn't make such distinctions, but they don't have to know that."

"Is it wise to keep such things from them?" She frowned, finding it odd that he would choose to keep secrets while his position as a teacher was under supervision. "Harry is quite reasonable. I think you should consider telling him, at least then, they won't be surprised if they find out."

"I know." He cleared his voice, looking a little troubled. "Just forget I mentioned it. That isn't important anyway."

She was about to object to that, but he looked away dismissively, and nodded towards the road. "Shall we?"

"Sure." She sighed, turning her head. "Rose?"

"Coming, Mum!"

Rose had given up on catching snowflakes and was amusing herself with trying to glide across the ice and sleet on her boots. It was actually a little slippery and as Hermione turned back around, she unabashedly caught up to Severus to hook her arm inside his.

"You're going to try and pull me down with you now?" he grumbled, adjusting his elbow so that her arm pressed into his warm side.

"Stop being so grumpy, you git. I couldn't possibly manage that." She squeezed him back and grinned to herself at his muted grunt, at least until one of her feet slipped.

"Oh, tosh." They both staggered a little and she tightened her hold of him. "I wish there was a charm for slippery shoes. Didn't you use to make up your own spells?"

"That was a long time ago," muttered Severus, slowing his pace a little to accommodate her. "I can't think of one on such a short notice. Besides, I'm not really any good with charms. But I'll let you know if- ah!"

He startled as something wet hit him right between the shoulder blades with a splashing sound. He released his hold on her instantly and whirled around with a dark look in his eyes.

"That little sh-"

"Severus!" She smacked him, indicating Rose with her eyes. He winced.

"Sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Don't worry." Rose had caught up with them, but she had her eyes downcast, and looked a little dejected. "They didn't aim for you."

"What?" asked Hermione sharply, a shot of worry going through her. At the playground between Hogsmeade Station and Dervish and Banges, she could see the heads of three small boys peeking out from between the buildings. They were probably around Rose's age, or a little older, all of them too small for Hogwarts.

"Nothing." Rose looked away. "It's just someone from school. They were trying to hit me, Sev'rus, not you."

"Why would they do that?" Despite her better judgement and a genuine desire to keep calm for her daughter's sake, Hermione felt her voice go slightly shrill.

Rose rubbed her forehead over her knitted cap, as though she regretted having said anything. "They're teasing me," she mumbled. "It's just some boys. They pull my ponytail and call me redhead."

"Oh, no." Hermione reached out to stroke Rose's hair, but the girl pulled away, looking both sad and annoyed all at once. Hermione folded her hands in front of her instead, watching her from a measured distance, heart aching.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Rose," she said more calmly. "Why haven't you told me about this before? I'm sure I could have helped you."

"There's nothing you can do," she said sullenly, kicking some ice on the ground with her boot. "They're like that with some other girls, too. I didn't want you to make it worse if I told on them."

"I can understand that," said Severus cautiously. "I think the best thing you can do is try to ignore them."

He watched Rose through his hair as though he was preparing to be shot down, but there was also an air of determination about him. He looked for all the world like someone who had skin in the game, and with a pang, Hermione realised that his feelings towards Rose must be of the same nature as her own. The truth was that he acted more like an extra father for her daughter, than a friend, and despite the circumstances, she found the thought both comforting and appealing.

"I know it can be tough," he continued, "but don't let them get to you. You're worth more than that."

"What do _you_ know?" Rose frowned. "You're an adult. They'll never dare to bother you."

Severus walked over to crouch down in front of her. Without hesitation, she climbed onto his back, locking her arms around his neck.

"I was teased in school as well," he said quietly. "I know many things about it."

"Really?"

Severus started on the path to Hogwarts and Hermione fell into step beside him.

"Really. They called me Sniv and did magical tricks to hurt me and humiliate me."

Rose's frown deepened and she chewed on her bottom lip. "Why would they do that?"

"I don't think that even they knew," said Severus. "At least not at first. Later, we became enemies and I did many things to them that I shouldn't have done as well. We fought all the time."

"Doesn't that make you just as bad as them?" she asked. "That's what my teacher says in school."

Severus nodded, casting a look in Hermione's direction. "You're probably right," he said in the same, gentle tone. "Maybe if I hadn't retaliated, they might have given up and let me in peace. Sometimes, the best thing to do is just to walk away when people are mean to you."

Rose looked unhappy. She was leaning her head on his shoulder, not minding that his hair was wet.

Severus sighed. "I know it's hard," he said. "I struggle to do it myself, I always have. But your mother is very good at it. And she got many friends out of that when she was young–good friends–and then it didn't hurt her so much that some people treated her badly. You see?"

"Mhm." Rose closed her eyes. "Your cheek is all scratchy," she whispered, ending their conversation. The frown on her face lingered, but some of the tension in her body seemed to have gone. Hermione breathed a small sigh.

They walked in silence the rest of the way back to the castle, Rose in deep though on Severus' back. When they reached the shrieking shack, Hermione could not help but peek over at him, starkly reminded of that day so many years ago. She wondered if he thought about it often and what he felt towards the place now, but he avoided both her gaze and the shack and all she could make out of his profile was that crooked nose of his.

There was a small flat part on the bridge of it and she could imagine his glasses coming to rest exactly at that spot. It looked nice, she decided, upon closer inspection, surprising herself with her own whimsy.

Yet the thought of him nearly dying was hard to shake. It had been a brutal experience. To be so young and watch someone she had known for years be slain in front of her very eyes. She still recalled the sound as his body hit the wall they hid behind, a dull thump of dead weight, and the scent of dust and blood as Harry knelt in front of the dying man.

He had been the brave one that day. It was another of her failures that she never thought to help their teacher. Harry did, however. He returned after the battle with a healer in tow, as ever ready to do what was right. She was ashamed to admit that the thought of helping Severus hadn't really crossed her mind that day. She had been too absorbed in Ron's loss, and Severus' death -or so she had thought at the time- had been just one more grief in a line that was much too long.

Now though, she couldn't think of anyone else besides Rose whom she judged as important to her as him. Despite her lingering guilt and the worrying new knowledge about Rose's social life, Hermione felt a new lightness in her chest.

There was something to be said about sharing the many joys and burdens of parenting and she hadn't realised until that moment that she had come to miss it deeply.

That, and she was falling for him. Hard.

* * *

"I can't believe the greasy git gave you detention."

No doubt, they were trying to be stealthy, hidden as they were in a nook by the Great Hall, but indignation made the adolescent voice carry further than was probably intended. Hermione gave Cavan a look and slowed her pace.

"Yeah, it was so totally unfair," said another student. "None of the other teachers are plain mean, like he is. If he has a bad day, all you have to do is drop your quill on the floor and he's at your throat at once."

This one obviously belonged to a girl, and Hermione frowned in concentration. She did not yet have full control of all the students' names as she only really came to know the ones that for some reason or other had to spend time in the Infirmary. The rest, she mostly picked up during staff meetings and from the numerous files in her bookcase.

"Wilson," muttered Cavan by her side. "Second-year Gryffindor."

"Right." She nodded. "And the other one? The girl. Bones, is it?"

"Also second-year." Cavan chuckled quietly. "Wonder who they're talking about, hm?"

Hermione sighed. "We can't have them slander a fellow professor like that," she said. "Points or detention?"

Cavan held up a hand. "Wait a minute," he said softly. "Let's just listen some more."

She conceded grudgingly, stilling her body to pick up on the quiet chatter.

"Maybe he has migraines," said the first voice and the boy, Wilson, chortled. "My aunt has them and she gets all moody and grouchy."

"I hope it's a lethal disease," said a third voice sullenly, and Hermione started. She knew this boy quite well, as he was both Harry's godson and a close family friend.

"That's Teddy."

Cavan gave her a measured look. He didn't comment, but moved closer to the corner, where the hem of a uniform peeked out together with a book bag that was tossed carelessly on the floor. She felt a stab of guilt for not putting an immediate end to the gossip, but for now, curiosity won out.

"The other professors don't like him either," said the girl. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "You all know about the boggart-thing, right? I heard it was a teacher. They hate him too."

"No surprise there," said the first boy, "but what do you mean, 'boggart-thing'?"

"Don't you know?" The girl snickered gleefully. "Apparently, someone placed a boggart in Snape's closet and he totally didn't know what to do about it. It's been all over the school for weeks, I can't believe you haven't heard already."

"What? I don't pay attention to every rumour about Snape." There was a prick of indignation in Teddy's voice. "I'd have time for nothing else."

"Well," the girl sounded slightly arrogant; she was no doubt enjoying being the one to hold all the juicy information. "The rumour says the other teachers are trying to get rid of him because he's so nasty. If we're lucky, Flitwick'll give him the sack."

"What's his boggart then?" asked the Wilson-boy in anticipation. "I hope it's really embarrassing. Was it shampoo? A giant toothbrush?"

The girl giggled. "You're not even going to believe it," she said, pausing for dramatic effect. "It's snakes!"

Mocking laughter broke out and Hermione felt her stomach sink. She knew about Severus and the boggart, of course, almost everyone in school did by now, but these kids were making light of the most gruesome wizard for centuries, too young and ignorant to know better. She had expected more from Bones, and at least from Teddy, who was well aware of Severus' story. At least, she noticed, he had gone quiet.

Wilson on the other hand, laughed loudly. "Who was the genius that placed it there?" he asked between snickers. "I want to buy them flowers, this is absolutely priceless!"

"They say it's Professor Hern," said the girl with fond reverence. "Isn't he the coolest teacher ever?"

"Ooh, but I know why _you_ like him," said Wilson teasingly. "You're a _girl_ and you're all in loove."

There was a smack, as though Bones swatted Wilson on the arm. "Shut it, Gavin," she grumbled. "Like you don't ogle the Matron whenever she is in the Library. I know you fancy her."

Hermione had just about had enough, and was on her way around the corner when the girl spoke softly once more.

"There are other rumours too, though…"

It was high time to intervene, but something about Bones' tone made her pause. It was a note of something more serious.

"What?" Wilson's voice still held traces of laughter, but the girl did not join in.

"They say he was a Death Eater," she whispered. "You know, one of…Voldemort's old assassins…"

"No way!" cried Wilson, his merry all but wiped away. "You're having me on. How come he's not in Azkaban then?"

Hermione felt Cavan shift behind her and she took a quick step forward, effectively fencing the students inside the little alcove.

"I think that's more than enough gossip for one night."

Three pairs of astonished eyes met her own and she placed her fisted hands firmly on her hips. "That's twenty points from Hufflepuff and ten from Gryffindor."

She gave Teddy, whose hair was now a pale blonde, a hard look. "And I'm going to talk to Harry about your nasty behaviour, Edward. It is not kind to slander others behind their backs."

Cavan, who had joined her side, pointed his finger at the girl. "And I don't appreciate you spreading unfounded rumours about me, Bones," he said sternly. "You should be grateful that Madam Granger decided to give you another chance. If I ever catch any of you in the act again, it's detention."

"Yes Professors." The kids all looked down on the floor, appearing suitably chastised. Teddy's ears had gone bright red and he pointedly avoided Hermione's gaze.

"Move along," said Cavan with a shooing motion. "Back to your Dorms. Find something useful to occupy your time. I'm sure you've all got homework."

They did not have to be asked twice and Cavan fell in to step beside her as Hermione started through the corridor.

"What was that all about," he asked her, sounding a little off-balance. "Is it true, what they said about Snape?"

"What?" Hermione realised she sounded more brusque than she probably should, but she was upset and a little angry, mostly with Teddy.

"They said he was a Death Eater in the war." Cavan watched her cautiously. "Is it true?"

"No, of course not," she said impatiently, continuing down the hall at a pace slightly above what was comfortable for talking. "He worked for Dumbledore, with intelligence and, I don't know, probably potions and the like."

"Oh."

She turned her head towards him, keeping half an eye on Hogwarts' treacherous steps. "You shouldn't listen to those kids," she said adamantly. "They're too small to understand it yet. It's an ordinary thing, really. Students make fun of their teachers all the time, and although I didn't participate much in stuff like that myself when I was young, I harbour no illusions. They're probably talking about you and me as well."

"Right." Cavan blinked at her, raising his hand slightly to ease her temper. She sighed.

"Sorry. It's not your fault and you don't need to hear my ranting. It just aggravates me that they're so flippant about it all. The war was horrible."

"I realise that." He watched her contemplatively. "Did you know that he is under supervision though? I caught him in the corridor some time back, with Harry Potter, of all people. Apparently, he is his parole officer."

"Sure." She waved a hand. "Harry is a close friend of mine. We went to school together." She chuckled. "Why are you so surprised? This is rather common knowledge."

He shrugged. "I hadn't known, is all. I suppose reading about it in the newspapers doesn't give the full picture. Remember I lived abroad for many years."

"Of course." She smiled. "Sorry. It's easy to forget about that when your English is flawless. You even have traces of a Cardiff accent."

"You've noticed, hm?" He seemed pleased. "Dad was from down there. It was even more pronounced when I was younger."

They had reached the Entrance Hall, where several students were chatting quietly along the stone benches that lined the arched windows. Hermione took a sharp left, heading for the downward stairs and Cavan followed, his sleek dark hair artfully combed away from his face. They passed a group of Slytherin sixth-years, all girls, and she could see them cast long glances after them as they went.

"You know," said Cavan quietly, "it requires a potioneer to handle that substance."

She frowned. "You're talking about the Angel's Trumpet now?"

"Yeah." He skipped a couple of steps to keep up with her. "Someone who's likely to also be a criminal. Your average grandma wouldn't purchase a thing like that."

She turned to him, incredulous. "You're not suggesting that Severus would do it, surely?"

"I don't really know him," said Cavan, watching her. "It seems to me he's the only one on staff with a history."

"If you did, you'd never say that," she said. "It's just not possible. Trust me on this one. He would never do anything to place his students at risk. He is very protective of them, even if he doesn't always sound like it." She slowed her pace a little, so that the impact of what she were saying would be clear.

"You know, he placed himself between me and a grown werewolf once. And if his boggart hadn't been Nagini, I'm sure that would have been it."

Cavan frowned. "Nagini?"

"The snake." She looked up at him, eager to change the topic. "By the way, did you find out anything? When you went to the Ministry, I mean?"

"Oh, that. No." He rubbed a hand over his brow, seeming a little distracted. "They're not too eager to start an investigation now. They're too busy worrying about the release from Azkaban early next year. It's quite a frenzy down there, actually."

"Oh, alright."

"Yeah." He shrugged. "But they did say that it was a good thing we reported it. You know, to avoid prosecutions against the school. We don't want to trade places with the Death Eaters, after all."

"Sure." She snorted a half-laugh. "But you learned nothing new about why it was forbidden then?"

He shook his head. "No. But I'll research it. I've just been so busy, but then you probably know all about my projects already."

"The duelling club?" She nodded. "I think it was a great idea. Although it was a little slippery of you to corner Severus like that. He couldn't really say no, now could he?"

Cavan chuckled good-naturedly. "Oh, come on," he said, "The old chap can take it. He is more than tough enough to deal with little me."

"Sure. Fine." She shook her head. "You boys just keep at it. Will you be starting up the club anytime soon?"

"No," said Cavan. "I've had to put it on hold until after Christmas. There has been some trouble with the gytrashes and my fifth-years are a little behind." He sighed. "Then there's the new project I've got myself involved in, and time just flies."

"Well, I know all about that," said Hermione. "What is this other project of yours?"

Cavan perked up. "A Christmas party," he said. "I'm arranging one for the staff together with Cormac. It'll be on the last weekend of term. Saturday." He smiled. "I'm counting on you to be there."

She nodded, only listening with half an ear, because her mind was on Severus again. Somehow, her thoughts always seemed to return to him.

What was it about him that caught her attention so? Enough to make her ignore the good-looking, kind, and generous Cavan altogether?

Cavan was charming, that was sure, and interested in her, that was also clear. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy spending time with him. He was pleasant and polite and he had not tried to approach her physically again since that awkward time in the Library.

But Severus…

It was a far stretch to call him handsome, but he was tall, and had broad shoulders, and strong thighs, and deep brown eyes that sometimes –if you paid attention– seemed like they held the full depth of his soul.

Although he did not hide himself quite as much from her as he had in the beginning, she still sometimes had the feeling that he was keeping things from her. But he was infuriating and sweet, all at once.

He didn't respond much to her advances, if she could at all call them that, and even if given indefinite time, she rather thought he'd never make a move when left to his own devices. It was both frustrating and a little unnerving. She was starting to wonder if his primary interest was in Rose, and it made her unjustifiably sad.

She supposed in the end, it would come down to her, if she ever got her act together. Oh, well. There was no rush. Maybe her chance would come during Cavan's Christmas party.

And speaking of Cavan… She looked up at him, suddenly realising that he had followed her all the way down to the Dungeons.

"Cavan? Where are you going?"

He arched an eyebrow, as though it was obvious. "I'm walking you home," he said, straight-faced. "Er, at least, that's what I thought I was doing. Where are _you_ going anyway?"

She winced internally. Severus would not appreciate this. She should have tried to shake him off earlier, of course, but she had been too distracted by the gossiping students to notice what was happening. There was nothing for it now.

"Kitchens. I'm picking up Rose, she's having tea there with Severus tonight."

She looked away, careful to ignore Cavan's quite uncharacteristic and sudden scowl.

* * *

The kitchens were warm and quiet, and the clinking and bustling of the house elves had quieted down after the rush of activity that usually accompanied the evening meal in the Great Hall.

Severus looked up in anticipation when the portrait door opened, nudging Rose, who was munching quietly on a piece of cheese.

"Mum is here."

Rose smiled brightly, but Severus felt his face fall when another person entered through, close on Hermione's heels. He got up from his seat and straightened his coat.

"Everything okay?" Hermione asked. She went over to stand beside him.

Severus nodded, watching as Hern took the seat next to Rose on the wooden bench.

"Sev'rus helped me with the geography quiz," said the girl, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. "The capital of Germany is called Gerlin."

"Berlin," said Severus and Hermione together. "Napkin."

They exchanged an amused look as Rose wiped her face the proper way. Hern watched them with a small frown on his face.

"There were some students gossiping in the corridors, Severus," he said. "I suppose you can guess who they were talking about…"

He narrowed his eyes, unsure what Hern's point was. The students had always been spreading rumours about him and calling him names, this was nothing new. Regardless, he couldn't say he appreciated to know that Hermione had overheard any of that. Whatever they had said, it wasn't flattering, that much was certain.

"They mentioned something about your past," said Hern, watching him. Hermione frowned and he shrugged airily. "Anyway, we docked points and if it ever happens again, I'll give them detention. I'm sure you wouldn't like to have nasty rumours circulating."

"They'll do it anyway," said Severus, sure there was a hint at something here that he ought to understand. He had no idea what it could be, however. Most things about his past life had been widely spread in the newspapers following the Death Eater trials back in '98.

"So, Rose." Hern folded his hands on the table, looking down at the girl. "It's Saturday tomorrow," he said. "And the forecast is good, for once. I thought maybe you would like to join me on the Quidditch pitch and fly?"

Rose blinked and looked quickly in Hermione's direction, her eyes gleaming. "Yes," she squealed. "Oh, yes. Can I?"

Hermione gave a hesitant nod, her eyes flicking once to Severus, meeting his gaze. He quickly looked away to conceal his expression.

She sighed subtly. "Yes, I suppose you can." She glanced over at Hern. "When would-"

The man gave a radiant grin. "Anytime is fine," he said generously. "I usually go out to get some fresh air and exercise on the weekends anyway. I'm always feeling a little cooped up, spending so much time in my office. Being a teacher doesn't really provide the physical activity I'm used to."

Rose clapped her hands together. "Oh, thank you!" She jumped up and down, looking between them. "I'm so excited. I don't think I can wait. Oh! Mum, but I don't have a broom. Severus, do you have a broom? I've never seen you with one. Do you think we can borrow from the school?"

Severus grimaced. He had not expected her to include him in the shenanigans and the situation was quickly becoming awkward.

"No, I don't," he said uncertainly, keeping his gaze clear off Hermione and Hern. "But I'm sure you can borrow one…"

He cast a subtle glance at Hern, whose eyes had darkened. Rose was watching them and she faltered for a moment, looking between them.

"Not so loud," said a grumpy-looking elderly elf from the corner and her attention was broken.

"Sorry," she whispered, contrite. She was a little afraid of them.

Cavan grimaced, giving the elf a small smile. "They're a little less lenient with the staff than the students, I've noticed."

"Yeah." Hermione took Rose's hand. "But it's alright."

Rose watched the elf for another moment before she once again picked up speed. "Maybe I can borrow Teddy's broom," she said. "Do you think he'll lend it to me, Mum?" She looked up. "Oh, no matter, I'll use one from school, that's okay too. You think I can, Cav? I can't believe we're all going." She grinned. "And I can't wait to tell Dad about it."

Hern smiled at her, but Hermione must have noticed Severus' wariness because she tugged gently on Rose's arm, leading her towards the exit.

"Alright, young lady," she said, "I think it's bedtime soon. And you need a bath. I'm sure we can figure all of this out tomorrow." She shot Severus an apologetic look.

Cavan got up, giving him a smug salute on his way and they left in the manner they had arrived –together.

Severus watched the closed portrait hole in silence.

Apparently, Hern had decided to put in effort to befriend Rose, probably in an attempt to gain Hermione's favours.

He did not think that would be particularly difficult for the young man. For really, Hern was right, he was not much of a competition. A washed-out potions teacher, well used, and slightly fraying at the corners. Were he a book, he'd be in the five-sickle-box in Flourish and Blotts, quite possibly at the very bottom.

She on the other hand was brilliant. A warm, light soul. Caring and gentle. They weren't easily compared. It was no wonder he found it difficult to approach her in the way he really wanted. He had no idea how to deal with it all. All he knew was that once again, he was in deep trouble, and his heart was no longer his.

His best hope was probably that Hern would tire of teaching and leave the school for a better job before Hermione came to love him. But in any case, he was a bit too old for her as well, if he was going to be honest about it. However, he didn't see the need to point that out on top of everything else.

Times of stress were not easy on him since the war, his strength would never be quite what it used to be. And there had already been so much this term, with Hern and his inquisitiveness, and constantly being on guard against the Ministry, and at the same time hiding his feelings for Hermioine. He needed a holiday, preferably a nice and quiet one.

Everything was so much easier with the little girl. Her childish honesty gave him confidence because he knew that her affections were unconditional and unassuming.

He sat back down with a sigh and picked at some of the leftovers from Rose's plate, contemplating if he should put the dishes on the kitchen counter and brush the bread crumbs off the table.

It almost seemed like too much of a bother just then and were he in his own quarters, he would most likely have left them there. As it were, the grumpy old elf was already giving him a fixed stare.

But before he had time to clean up, the portrait slid open once more to reveal Rose's red, bushy head. This time though, she didn't bounce. Instead, there was something sad about the tilt of her bright eyes.

"What's the matter?" He frowned, casting his eyes around for the stuffed teddy she favoured these days. "Did you forget something?"

She came over to his chair, which brought her close to eye-level when he was sitting.

"You're not coming, are you?"

Her voice was quiet. She started to pick on the hem of his cloak, not meeting his gaze.

"Mm." He folded his hands in his lap, feeling keenly the guilt of letting her down, but also sorely aware that his presence at the outing would be unwelcome.

"No, I suppose I'm not."

She sighed and looked up. There was a tiny wrinkle over her nose, as though she were remorseful. "I only just realised. Can I see you another day instead?"

Silly girl. Did she not know that she could take anything she wanted from him?

"Of course, Rose. Anytime." He stirred to tuck some of her unruly hair behind her ear. "You can come down on Sunday instead, if you want."

She looked up, her tiny hand still making feather light traces on his shoulder. "Promise?"

He shook his head at her. "Yes, you sweet child, I promise."

Her mouth tilted upwards at one corner, ever so slightly. "Cross your heart?"

He chuckled and made a cross over his chest with his hand. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

Apparently, that was all the reassurance Rose needed. She grinned full on and threw her small arms around his neck in a fierce hug before skipping towards the portrait hole with renewed vigour.

"I love you, Sev'rus, goodnight," she chirped, so carefree that it made his heart seize, and gone she was, without waiting for him to respond.

He was almost inclined to think she wanted to spare him the fluster of coming up with a sensible reply to that. But the thought, of course, was ludicrous.

She couldn't possibly know that she was the first person to ever say those words to him.


	8. I Like You Too

Apparently, Hern had made Hermione the recruitment officer for his Christmas party, because as soon as she had learned that Severus had not planned to go, she had started to ask him about it at odd intervals, wanting to know why not, and what he was going to do instead.

He had kept silent on that account. His social life was not exactly something to write home about and the truth was, of course, that he had been planning to do absolutely nothing in complete peace and quiet.

However, she had kept on insisting he 'think about it', and it had culminated on the end of term feast in the Great Hall, when she had cornered him to ask the same questions all over again.

Exasperated, because he couldn't understand why Hern wanted him to be there in the first place, he had very plainly explained to her that,

"Hermione. I'm not a Christmas person. I'm not a festive person either. Surely you know that by now?"

She had looked up at him with shockingly wide eyes and taken his hand in her own, smaller one.

"Severus," she'd said, "don't you get it? I want you to come."

That made him falter.

"You don't need me there," he'd said uncertainly, "I'll spoil it all by being mean and boring."

Even as her touch burned his palm, it was her gentle laugh that had done him in. This, along with her quiet, almost shy, "No, you won't. Come. For me?"

It was what had made him end up in front of his bathroom mirror on Saturday eve, going through a very sudden, but intense mid-life crisis.

He took in the sad pallor of his own face, the ever-present bags under his eyes and the encroaching grey on his head. He had brushed his teeth, showered, and even dug up his 'best' coat, which he had purchased from Madame Malkin's for a not insignificant amount of galleons –admittedly some decades ago- but for all his efforts, he seemed to look just the same as he had before.

Slightly greasy hair, frown lines, crooked nose, yellow teeth. He even had to let out the coat at the waist, using a handy little spell his mother had taught him –along with almost everything else he knew about housekeeping- and although he should have seen it coming, it really didn't do much for his mood.

He downed the whiskey he had poured himself for good luck –or was it perhaps for courage, and was he really on the second one already?- and gave up. There was only so much he could do.

Clearly, Hern and Corner knew a thing or two about household spells as well, because even Severus had to admit that the Great Hall looked more enchanting than usual.

There were pinecones, and holly, and fairy lights, and glittery little paper hearts that the first-years had made. There was even a charmed set of string instruments –probably Corner's handiwork- playing a jolly Christmas tune next to one of the gigantic Christmas trees that Hagrid had felled in the Forbidden forest the week before the end of term. There was also finger food and an abundance of alcohol, he noticed, and feeling a little self-conscious, he went straight for the gin.

In addition to the staff, there were several other guests as well, including the liveliest segment of the Board of Governors. He had planned to slink off to a corner with his drink and wait for Hermione to arrive, but -in an attempt to avoid what would undoubtedly have been a very stilted conversation with chairman and former Minister for Magic Millicent Bagnold- he ended up on the odd side of a golden reindeer and walked straight into Potter and Weasley.

They had claimed their old places at the Gryffindor table, and had even had the presence of mind to nick one of the serving plates for themselves. He felt his shoulders sag a little in relief.

"Severus Snape." Weasley stood halfway to grasp his arm and give it a shake. "You're a little greyer around the temples since last I saw you."

Weasley's own hair was impeccably red, just like Rose's, and he wore a deep green robe to match, clearly made by a highly skilled tailor. Apparently, he was making up for a childhood of wearing second-hand rags to teenage balls. Severus could relate, of course, but he was not about to share that particular piece of information.

"A little?" Potter was sampling a few appetisers for himself, looking more plain in a dark brown blazer. He offered the plate to Severus with a mischievous grin. "That's being awfully kind, Ron."

"Careful, you," said Severus as he selected a tattie scone. He gave Potter's head a meaningful look. "Black isn't as forgiving as the fairer colours, Potter. Just wait and you'll see for yourself, eventually."

"Yeah, Harry." Weasley squinted at Potter and leaned in to pick out a disarrayed strand of hair. "I actually think I can see one right here, is it the Auror business that's giving you these? Or little James maybe? It surely can't be Ginny."

"Get off, Ron." Potter swatted his hand away and blushed. "That's not how you get grey hairs. It's all about genetics."

"Let's hear it then." Weasley looked at Severus with a wide smile. "Did Harry's grandparents go grey in their thirties too?"

Severus had to supress a smile of his own. There were things about Rose that sometimes puzzled him because they were not as he remembered Hermione as a child –traits like her open, free-spoken ways and blunt honesty and the way she was naturally at ease in social situations. He had thought of them as something unique to her personality, but he could see traces of them now, in Weasley, and maybe it was just the whiskey he had been drinking, but even though he had hardly seen the man since he was in school, he almost felt like he knew these little parts of him.

"Mrs and Mr Evans were both blonde," he said. "At least for the time when I was acquainted with them. I never interacted much with the Potters, so I can't remember well."

"Did they wear glasses?"

Potter had stilled and his eyes gleamed, as they always did when he managed to make Severus talk about the old days.

"Mr Evans did." Severus took a fortifying swig from his glass. "But they were of quite a different…style from yours."

"No wonder." Weasley laughed. "Why do you still wear those old goggles, Harry? I can't imagine round ever having been high fashion."

"Oh, come on, Weasley." Severus snorted. "John Lennon?"

Potter grinned at Weasley's blank gaze. He touched his spectacles fondly. "These are fortified with so many spells now that they're practically stuck to my face," he said. "I wouldn't have the heart to change them out, even if the thought should strike me." He shrugged. "Which it hasn't."

"Harry, Ron!"

They all turned to see Longbottom coming towards them and a round of hearty hand shaking and back patting followed, which left Severus on the side to sip from his drink and battle the old discomfort he was prone to in these sort of situations.

"So…How come you're here?" asked Longbottom with a tilt of his head towards Weasley. "Not that I'm not happy to see you both, but it's a bit of a surprise."

"We're Hermione's dates." Potter lifted his glass in a small toast.

"You're-" Longbottom frowned and looked around the room. His eyes lingered on Hern, who was close by, chatting with the new librarian. "Where is she anyway?"

"No idea." Weasley shrugged and sampled a cheese skewer. "We were early. But I'm sure she'll be around soon."

"Oh, but she's over there with Filius," said Longbottom. He waved a hand and for some absurd reason, Severus' throat seemed to dry up when she looked over at them and her face lit up like the sun. There was absolutely no reason to think that the smile was for him alone.

But then they came over and she walked straight up to stand beside him. Not Potter or Weasley, or Longbottom, but _him_.

Her dress had short sleeves and he could see her collarbones over the neckline, where a small gold heart rested in the hollow of her throat.

He drained his glass a little too quickly and gave a harsh cough he had not meant to let slip.

"Whoa there, old boy."

A hand landed heavily on his back, and for a startling moment, he thought it was Hermione who touched him, but then they gave him a couple of overly firm pats and Hern wedged his way between the two of them.

"I hope you're all enjoying the party," he said. His eyes landed on Potter and Weasley and he held out a hand. "Cavan Hern, Defence and head of Slytherin."

Potter shook with him. "Harry," he said, "and this is Ron." He nodded his head at Weasley. "We're friends of Hermione's."

"So you're the reason why she would not go to the party with me?" Hern chuckled. "I should feel honoured."

"I don't know about that." Weasley gave Hermione a mock scowl. "She had us wait alone for like half an hour. We had no idea what to do with ourselves. Luckily, Severus here came to the rescue."

"That's hardly an accurate description, Weasley," said Severus. "It seemed to me you were doing just fine on your own."

"Right." Hern smiled gently down at Hermione. "I guess I got the better deal in the end."

"I have the impression you have settled in well here at Hogwarts," said Filius to Hern. "At least judging from all the social events you have put in place for us. It gives the working environment a lift, you know. It's a delight to watch for an old-timer like myself."

"Oh, I do enjoy it here," said Hern, smiling. "At the French Auror force, where I used to be, everyone were male and of approximately the same age, and I have to say I appreciate the greater diversity here. It makes everything a lot more interesting, even though the work itself is admittedly a little more mundane."

"You mean Hogwarts is run by a mob of old women?" Potter grinned at Filius. "No wonder I'm having such problems with getting them to cooperate."

"Dumbledore was the one who knitted socks for everyone at Christmas," said Filius, straight-faced. "I only hand out liquor. But although I can agree fully on the gender issue, there isn't anything interesting about getting old." He chuckled. "You get a little saggier, a little more pain wrecked and a little more apathetic." He nudged Severus' hip sharply with an elbow. "Isn't that right?"

"Don't forget disillusioned," grunted Severus, keeping his thoughts about his tight coat to himself.

"Well, it gives you understanding too, you know," said Hermione softly. She had been quiet up until then and it almost made him startle when she finally chose to speak. They all turned to look at her and she twirled her hands together.

"I mean, youth can be self-absorbed," she hurried to say. "When you're older, you learn to appreciate more things and love more and give more love, and that is most important of all, isn't it?" There was a slight blush forming on her cheeks and Severus' heart skipped a beat when her eyes darted towards his. They both quickly looked away.

"That's how I feel about it anyway…"

"That's…a very generous attitude, Hermione," said Filius, clearly touched. He was quite obviously affected by his steady consumption of the very strong punch that the house elves had provided. Severus could not blame him though; he was feeling a little emotional himself all of a sudden.

"Seeing as the majority of the staff are in their early thirties, I'm not sure we can claim full diversity," said Hern, seeming oblivious to the interaction between Severus and Hermione. "Although Binns admittedly skews the distribution a little…"

"Yeah, and thirty something is actually quite old if you compare to my teammates," said Weasley. "Even Harry has grey hairs now," he added helpfully.

"Oh, is it because of the demonstrations?" Hern tipped his glass towards Potter.

"What demonstrations?" the librarian asked. She had followed Hern over and Severus struggled to recall her full name –in the quiet of his mind he sometimes thought of her as 'the Irishman' even though her accent was clearly Scottish.

"People flooded Diagon Alley last Wednesday." Potter sighed. "It has to do with, you know," his eyes flicked briefly towards Severus, "the Death Eaters. I'm sure you've read about it in the papers."

"Right. Of course." She nodded.

"Chances are it'll only get worse, the release is still three months away." Potter looked at Severus again, and there was a frown between his eyes that seemed an awful lot like worry. "My department has received a number of threats already. Apparently, some people feel very strongly that we should keep them locked up."

"Well, that's all in the hands of Kingsley, isn't it?" said Weasley. "I mean he's the one who calls the shots, isn't he?"

"Yes, of course." Potter shrugged. "But you know what people are like."

"Speaking of," said Filius, "what exactly did you two put in that punch?" He nodded at the podium that normally held the staff's dining table. They all turned to notice that the music had increased in volume and that Corner along with several members of the School Board was dancing an odd dance, which included several long wines of garland.

Hern blanched. "I've no idea," he murmured. "The elves made it. But we did ask them for something festive…"

"Oh, dear…" Filius examined his own glass with a worried expression. "I do fear they have taken your request literally."

"I guess it's time to dance," said Longbottom with an air of finality. He nodded at Hern. "Cavan, Hermione, come along, I'll go and find Hannah."

Hermione seemed to hesitate and Severus wanted to pull her away and ask her to go home with him instead, but he was not that brave.

Hern nudged his side. "The first one is mine," he said below the sound of Corner's band. "I think it's only fitting." He grinned. "Not that you aren't a fine catch, old sport."

Potter gave Severus a curious look, but he was too preoccupied to take notice. He realised that he had been hoping to have a serious talk with Hermione tonight, and only belatedly understood what an idiotic idea that had been. Of course, _everyone_ would want to talk to her. She had many friends here and did not have to rely on him to have a good time, as he relied on her.

And now she was off to dance with Hern…

Severus had not been jealous before. He had no right to be, and he knew he needed to protect himself from thoughts like that. But to see them now, like this… It was like a knife twisted in his chest.

They looked perfect together. A beautiful young couple. Had it not been for his dislike of Hern, he might even have tried to be happy for her. Except he had no business forming an opinion either way, and it shouldn't have been a big deal to him. In fact, it _was_ no big a deal, he decided. Nothing for him to think about.

Sttop thinking about it, Severus, _Christ._

He had been drinking a little too much perhaps, and the previously relaxing effect of the alcohol was now beginning to make him tired.

* * *

Hermione hurried back from the dance floor to find Severus' place empty. She twirled around to look towards the drinks table, but he was nowhere in sight. She sighed.

When she had pictured this night in her mind, there had not been so many other people around to thwart her plans, and Neville had completely thrown her for a loop.

Damn her and her shyness. Why couldn't she just kiss him and be done with it?

"You like him, don't you?"

Harry gave her a quizzical look before his eyes darted briefly to Ron, who was entertaining Elisabeth and Michael, probably with one of his many stories from the National Quidditch League.

Hermione spluttered. "I- No! _You as well_?" She was both upset and disappointed in her own inability to take action, and could not for her life understand why everyone insisted she had a thing for Cavan Hern.

"I don't, Harry," she said on a deep exhale. "I really don't. I thought you knew me better than that."

"You don't?" Harry's eyebrows crept upwards. His eyes flitted across the room once and he leaned away from her slightly. "Oh…" He scratched his hair, looking like he did not quite believe her. "I felt pretty sure…"

"No." She shook her head and gave a soft snort. "He's way too smooth for my taste, both in looks and manners."

"Smooth?" Harry suddenly laughed -rather loudly and incredulously- and she almost startled. Ron and Michael both turned their heads and held up their glasses in a toast.

"You call _him_ smooth?" said Harry, a little more subdued. He grinned. "I'll admit he tries very hard to be suave, but it's pretty obvious that he's faking, isn't it? I've always thought he's rather edgy."

She blinked. "You're not talking about Cavan, are you?"

"Cavan?" Harry frowned at her. "Why on earth would I talk about him?" His eyes caught on something behind her shoulder, which seemed to distract him, and he reached out to touch her arm.

"Listen, Hermione," he said softly. "I think you need some fresh air."

She looked around, bewildered. "What?"

"Yeah." He turned her by the shoulder towards the large double door at the end of the room. "Go outside for a bit. I'm going to go talk to Filius in the meantime."

"Harry, are you suggesting that I'm drunk? I've barely-"

"Of course not." He pushed her lightly forwards. "Just do it. Go."

She frowned as she looked back at him, and hesitantly took a step towards the exit. Harry nodded.

The world seemed quiet outside of the Great Hall. She could still hear the faint sounds of a Christmas waltz and people's chatter, but with the heavy doors between her and the rest, she might as well have been the only person in the dimly lit castle. Trusting Harry, she crossed the corridor to the main entrance, unsurprised to find it unbolted and slightly ajar.

She peeked outside to see the glimmer of stars high in the night sky. There had been heavy snowfalls over Scotland in the past weeks –to Rose's great delight- and the castle grounds were covered by a velvety blanket, knee-deep beside the bannisters where the wind had blown it up against the thick stone walls.

She silently transfigured a napkin she had brought along into a shawl before she approached the lone man who was standing on the lowest step and leaning against one of the many columns that made up the arch above the door.

"I never knew you smoked."

Severus turned his head to look up at her. "I don't," he said, seeming mildly surprised. "That is, I try not to."

She snorted lightly. "You don't seem to be trying very hard right now."

"No." He watched her out of the corner of his eye. "No, not right now..."

She pulled the shawl closer around her shoulders.

"I thought you'd left."

"I did," he said, looking down. "Or, I was thinking to, but then I ended up here."

They both watched the stars for a moment. Above the eastern corner of the Forbidden Forest, Little Bear had just climbed up above the treetops and if she squinted her eyes, Hermione could almost make out the trail of the Milky Way towards the south. It was probably close to five below zero and the light from behind a stained glass window made the snow beneath them glimmer in purple and green and blue. Below her, Severus' cigarette glowed red when he held it to his lips. She walked down a few steps to stand beside him.

"May I ask you something?"

"Mm." His eyes found hers again. "Of course."

"I…ah…Why didn't you want to come tonight?" That wasn't wat she had wanted to say, but as usual when it came to Severus, she managed to put all Gryffindors to shame.

He shrugged. "Because I have to talk to people, I suppose. And be pleasant. I find it…a little stressful."

"Is that so?" She looked away. "I thought maybe you, I don't know, just don't like anyone here…"

She nearly held her breath. Rarely had she given such a direct insinuation to someone.

He was watching her carefully, the dark of his irises seeming almost black in the night. "I like _you_ …"

"You do?" She shivered, and could not quite tell if it was from the cold, or from the tension. "I mean, that's good. Because I like you too, you know."

Severus extinguished his cigarette against the castle wall and banished the remains. When he straightened, it brought them so near that she could easily have put an arm around his neck. But she didn't.

"Do you want to dance?"

"I don't dance," he said warily, and she felt her shoulders sag.

"Oh…"

Severus suddenly seemed weary. He shook his head. "Forgive me. That was…I wouldn't dream of refusing you."

He reached forward and brushed his knuckles against her cheek. His hand was cold, but the contact made her skin glow warm and she took a step closer so that her lower arms nearly touched his stomach. She was incredibly aware of his body next to hers, how he was so much taller than she was, and broader, and how, if he had just raised his hands from his sides and put them around her shoulders, it would surely have felt like heaven.

She heard him draw a shallow breath.

"Listen, Hermione, I…" He seemed unsure and up close, the lines on his face appeared deeper, as though he had been living under stress for some time. She braced herself, afraid she had asked too much of him.

"There is something that I should probably…"

Suddenly, the faint voices from inside seemed to grow louder and Severus abruptly pulled away from her.

"Ahoy, Hermione?"

Neville's face peeked out from behind the door, brightening when he saw her. "Ah, there you are. I've been looking all over for you. Cavan and Michael are handing out Christmas presents. They have one for you as well."

He leaned out a little further. "Oh, Severus. You should come too."

"Right." She twisted to look up at Severus uncertainly, but he had turned away and was already heading back inside.

They became separated when she walked up to the Christmas tree to receive her present –a stethoscope, charmed to play 'jingle bells' when she put it at someone's chest- and she thanked Michael and Cavan for both the gift and the evening.

"Excuse me, will you? I'm feeling a little tipsy from the wine."

"Oh." Cavan watched her. "But you'll come back, won't you?"

"Perhaps…"

She looked around the room and slung the stethoscope around her neck. The charmed string quartet had grown off-tune in time with Michael's steady intake of mulled wine. Hannah was wearing an empty punch bowl on her head, and Hagrid sat in a corner, seemingly deep in conversation with the lowest branch on the Christmas tree. Severus was gone.

It was time to go home.

* * *

Potter came for the second official inspection that term on the following Monday.

Their meeting had been short and to the point because Filius was anxious to leave the castle behind and start his well-earned holiday. There were still no news about his pending application and as usual, Severus walked Potter to the Entrance Hall when they were done.

"Potter…" He sighed and looked around in search of Hern and other eavesdroppers.

"Yes, Severus?" Potter's voice was gentle. His hands were stuck deep down into his pockets and he was leaning casually against a stone column.

"Potter, I need…" He was searching for a way not to sound pathetic, but each attempt he could think of ended up being worse than the last. Asking for help had never been his strong suit.

"I wanted to ask you a favour."

Potter seemed unruffled by Severus' struggles. "Sure," he said easily. "Shoot."

"Duel me," he grunted out. "I need some practice."

A small frown made Potter's scarred forehead wrinkle up. "Why would you want to do that?"

"I-" He nearly scoffed at himself and shook his head. "Never mind why. It's nothing untoward. I just have to brush up a little. And it has to be with a capable partner."

And preferably one that would not aim to humiliate him in front of a big audience.

"Capable? Why, Severus?" Potter grinned. "I'm flattered that you finally acknowledge my prowess. I remember a time when-"

Severus groaned. "Yes, yes," he said. "I know." Dealing with adolescent Potter had never been his strong suit either, which Potter seemingly delighted in reminding him. "I'm not about to apologise for that."

Potter looked smug. "I distinctly recall you apologising pro-"

"That was _one_ time." Severus huffed. "You caught me in a weak moment."

"Twice." Potter folded his hands in front of his chest. "There was that once when I visited you in Spinner's End and you had just a tad too much firewhisky." He grinned evilly. "Don't you remember?"

"Did I?" He might have. Severus scowled. "You guilted me into it. You are a manipulative little-"

Potter merely chuckled. "So, you want to duel or not?" He checked his watch. "I have an extra hour before my next assignment."

"What? Now?"

Potter shrugged. "Yeah, if you're up for it?"

"I am." He looked towards the Great Hall, where he could hear voices approaching. One of them was female and the risk that it might be Hermione and that Potter might blurt out their practice plans to her made him restless. Somehow he would rather she did not know.

He turned back to Potter. "I suppose we could use my classroom but I'd need to clean it up a bit, I have ah...an experiment set up."

"Follow me." Potter nodded his head towards the stairs. "I might know a place."

Miraculously, they managed not to bump into anyone as Potter guided him all the way to the seventh floor where they took a turn towards the left corridor, a corridor he distinctly recalled to be a dead end. There, they stopped next to a large tapestry.

"Now what?"

Potter had closed his eyes and was walking leisurely back and forth along the opposite wall. Severus' eyes narrowed. He was quite accustomed to Potter's odd behaviours, but this was unconventional, even for him.

"What are you up to, Potter?" he growled, not liking to be left in the dark. "You're acting stranger than usual."

Potter ignored him, but within moments, an entrance appeared on the stone surface that had previously been without a single crack. Severus took a step back.

"Potter?"

"Calm down, Severus." Potter opened the heavy door with a creak. "There's nothing dangerous in there." He hesitated and took a quick peek inside, muttering under his breath. "I do think the fire must have gone out by now…"

"Fire?" asked Severus sharply. He drew his wand and followed. If he had to save Potter's sorry arse from flames, he swore he would retire on the day.

Sadly, as things had turned out, it was more likely that Potter would be the one to save him. Luckily, the room seemed safe enough.

"You've not been here before, I take it?" Potter threw his cloak on the floor by the door.

"No." He spun around in a circle, taking in the space, which was really nothing but a large, empty hall. "How did you come to learn about this?"

"Neville found it."

Huh.

"That is…impressive."

"Yeah." Experimentally, Potter fired a mild _incendio_ at the floor. With nothing to give them hold, the flames sizzled and died.

"It's known as the come-and-go room," he said. "Or the room of requirement. It appears when a person is in need. For example, Dumbledore once told me that he used it to go to the bathroom, and Tom Riddle hid Ravenclaw's diadem in here."

Potter looked up. "It was also a vanishing cabinet in this room that Malfoy used to smuggle Bellatrix and the Death Eaters inside that night when…" He shrugged.

"Anyway. Hermione always says that I shouldn't trust anything that seems sentient if I can't see where it keeps its brain, but even she made an exception for this room. Founder's magic, I suppose…" Potter's voice trailed off.

"Right."

Severus could nothing but agree. The room seemed benign enough, and he could not help thinking about the possibilities it offered. With the way Hern seemed so suspicious of him these days, maybe he ought to put it to good use… Who else besides Longbottom knew about it? Was it capable of keeping secrets from those that knew how to get inside?

He did not dare ask Potter –he should not even think about these things in his presence- and he suddenly felt uneasy, as though an invisible hand had taken hold around his throat to slowly, but firmly suffocate him. He turned.

Potter was staring. He was staring at Severus, and it gave him the feeling that Potter knew something, something that he should not – _could not-_ know.

"Potter?"

The lad kept on with the odd ogling, his expression a mix of curiosity and something else. Even on a second look, it was something that Severus couldn't quite name, but it was a look that was rarely, if ever, bestowed upon him.

"Why are you watching me like that?" He cursed himself when his voice broke into a huff.

Potter, true to form, proceeded to throw a bucket of cold water down his spine.

"You like her, don't you?"

Deep down, Severus had been steeling himself for something dangerous, but the question hit closer to home than he had expected. His response, of course, was pure reflex.

"I most assuredly do not."

"Oh, but you do." Potter grinned. "I was watching you the other day. You _flinched_ when she came to stand beside you, did you know?"

"I-"

Had he? And Potter had noticed?

"And then, when she leaned around you to talk to Filius, you visibly held your breath."

"I did not."

"Yes, you did." Potter took a step closer.

"If I did," he said, backing up a little, "it was only because I don't like to be touched."

Potter rolled his eyes. "Oh, please," he said, following in Severus' footsteps. "You were terrified. You never react like that when I touch you."

The nitwit had the audacity to poke him firmly in the chest and Severus wasn't fast enough to swat his hand away.

"See?" Potter gave a self-satisfied grin. "You didn't even blink. You _like_ her."

"Potter," he growled, in a voice he normally reserved for especially dim-witted students. "You are quite possibly the biggest nuisance since the origin of the mosquito."

"Can't help being perceptive." Potter proudly tapped the Auror badge on his uniform. "I earned this, you know. It wasn't all about the fame."

Severus shook his head. He ought to feel relieved, but still. This was the second time someone had confronted him about his feelings towards Hermione. With the first opportunity, and when his rusty duelling skills were hopefully sorted out, he figured he would have to whip himself back into shape as a spy as well. Apparently, there were so many leaks in his personal defences these days that he was practically a human strainer. He had no idea what had happened to him over the years to make his armour go so soft, but it was becoming glaring now in this time of need. Tragically so.

While he was busy worrying, Potter had crept into a sort of battle stance and Severus hurried to follow his example by throwing his cloak on the floor.

"The first one to take a hit loses," said Potter. "No destructive magic."

Severus nodded and Potter immediately threw an impediment jinx straight at his chest. He managed to block it with the counterspell, but Potter did not relent and he quickly found himself in a tight spot. He had to remind himself that whomever cast the first incantation gained a significant advantage.

All too soon, a sharp throb informed him that he had not been quick enough to move his left arm out of the way of Potter's assault –a weakness he would have to work harder to conceal. Potter raised his hands in victory.

"Again?"

"Again."

He managed better the second time around. He got in the first attack and drove Potter towards one of the stone columns that supported the roof, but the result was still the same. A stinging hex –this time dangerously close to his groin.

" _Potter_."

He was getting angry now. He was seriously out of breath and Potter did not appear ruffled in the least.

"What?"

"Do not go _gentle_ on me."

Potter smirked, a look almost worthy of his father.

"As you wish."


	9. The Babysitter

**A/N**

Four chapters left is my new estimate. It's impossible to know really because they keep getting longer than I expect. In any case, I've figured that a few of the things I had planned are better suited for a potential sequel. Or something. As always, thanks for reading!

* * *

After five nights with the Weasleys, Hermione's head was spinning from all the talk about Quidditch. But she had known all along that it was inevitable from the moment when she decided to accept the offer of staying at the Burrow over Christmas as usual. With both Ron and his girlfriend, Gwen, as professional players and with Ginny as game correspondent for the Daily Prophet, the topic rarely strayed far from everyone's favourite sport. Neither did it help much that Angelina was just as obsessed, and that the only way to silence all of the children at once seemed to be by entertaining them with lively descriptions of 'Dionysus Dives' and 'Wronski Feints' and 'Woollongong Shimmies'. Luckily, Molly, George and Harry seemed to value other things in life, and also to appreciate that Hermione felt the same way.

But for Gwen, that situation was probably a relief as it gave her some common ground with her in-laws. She was still new in the family, young –she didn't look a day above twenty-two- and rather shy. Like Hermione, she had come from a small family, with no siblings and only a couple of cousins, whom all had spent Gwen's entire childhood living in Austria. The introduction to the Weasley family must have been somewhat of a shock even though they were more than used to accepting new family members into their fold, and had greeted her with their usual bustling curiosity.

"Are you going directly to Hogwarts tomorrow, Hermione?"

They were sitting around the dining table on New Year's Eve, and Hermione had made sure to place herself between Molly and Harry, both to get easier access to the children's table, and for the company.

Harry watched her put her fork down and swallow her bite. "There are still a couple of days before the start of term. I imagine you're longing for some solitude by now, hm?" He grinned.

"Rubbish," said Molly from her other side. "Don't tell me you're going back to that cottage all by yourself?"

"Of course not." Hermione chuckled. "Rose is coming too. And I need to check on it in any case. I left the heating on in the kitchen and I need to turn it off. We probably won't be back until Easter."

Molly shuddered. "Isn't it dreary?" she asked with a dramatic frown. "It's so dark up there now. So far away. Aren't you afraid?"

"She does know how to apparate, Molly." Harry shrugged. "I think it's very charming. If you're into the whole picturesque, nature-y kind of thing."

Hermione laughed. "You're one to speak about dreary, Harry. You lived at Privet Drive your entire childhood." She nudged Molly's elbow. "Ottery isn't exactly the centre of the universe either, you know. But at least it's got some interesting people."

"Well, I live at Grimmauld now." Harry grimaced. "I guess you could say that the building is interesting…"

"I'll give you that, Harry." Molly smiled at Hermione around a sip of red wine. "How is life at Hogwarts then, dear? Filius doing all right? Severus? Sybill?"

"Oh, they're all well." Hermione tried to smile back, suddenly feeling a little shy. "As far as I know at least. I haven't really spoken with any of them since the end of term."

"They're spending their holidays at the castle?" Molly waved Arthur off as he tried to pass her the potatoes. "Terribly strong work ethics on those teachers." She rolled her eyes. "Not that I'm surprised. They've always been like that."

"Well, I don't think they particularly mind." Hermione shrugged. "Granted, Filius is in Bristol with his family, but both Severus and Sybill are at Hogwarts. Someone has to watch over the remaining students."

"The nutty fraud's still teaching, is she?" Charlie asked from the other side of the table. "And the vampire bat as well?"

"Oh, but Sybill is charming really," said Molly with a slight frown at her son's playful grin. "She's loyal and quite powerful with magic, you know. And Severus, I know you all think of him as nothing but a grumpy old schoolteacher, but I'll tell you, he is hands down the best potioneer I've ever met."

"I assure you," muttered Hermione, "I hold him in very high regard."

Harry gave her a sideways glance and a smirk. She huffed.

"He was still a git when last I saw him," said Charlie lightly. "Potions are for sissies anyway."

George, who sat beside him, snorted. Unless it sprouted smoke and fire and tried to devour him upon first contact, Charlie wasn't much impressed by anything.

"Just because you flunked."

"Well, you dropped out of school altogether." Charlie grinned. "You're not much better."

"And look where it got me," said George with mock sadness. His business in Diagon Alley was flourishing as never before.

"Yes, brilliant, I'd say," continued Molly as though she hadn't heard them. "And I know a thing or two about potions myself. He's always helpful should I need his advice. In fact, I wanted to visit him just after the children got home to get his help in modifying a remedy I'm devising. But he wasn't feeling well, so I was meant to come back later." She looked around the table with a wry laugh. "Then Christmas happened."

Hermione whipped her head around. "What? You mean he was ill again?" Her voice had gone slightly shrill and Molly sent her a puzzled look.

"Yes, I suppose… Again? What do you-?"

"Nothing," she hurried to say. "It's nothing, ah... I was a bit surprised, that's all…"

Molly nodded placidly. "I don't think you should worry," she said. "People catch the odd flu from time to time. He works with children, after all, and he's hardly a young man anymore."

She winced and glanced behind them at the smaller table in the corner, where little Albus had just sneezed loudly onto Rose's plate.

"And neither am I, I should know."

Hermione watched Rose as she calmly wiped stray snot from her fork and continued to eat.

"Yes, I know," she said, "it's just…" She turned to whisper to Harry on her other side.

"Harry, do you know anything about this?"

"What?" He shook his head at her. "Of course not. He's allowed a sick day now, isn't he? What's the big deal?"

"I suppose…" She sighed. "I don't know, I just…"

Harry chuckled. "You like him," he said evenly. "It's only natural for you to be concerned."

"Quiet, Harry. _Please_." She mashed her foot into his shin beneath the table and looked around surreptitiously. Luckily, everyone else seemed to have turned their eyes towards Ron, who stood from his seat to tap his knife against the rim of his glass.

"I have an announcement," he said proudly and Hermione felt her eyes widen. She knew Molly must have been thinking along the same lines as her, because her knuckles suddenly whitened around the stilt of her glass.

"I got an owl from my manager today," continued Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance with Molly. The relationship between Gwen and Ron was still fresh, but more interesting news would have been welcome. They both shook their heads fondly.

"I have been made captain of the national team." Ron grinned and Gwen looked up at him affectionately. "Starting with the match against Romania next month. I even get a say-so as to who gets picked out on the team."

"Congratulations, Dad!" Rose jumped up from her seat and ran to hug him around the waist and the adults raised their glasses, commending Ron for being a superb strategist and well suited to the task.

With everyone else distracted, Harry leaned closer to poke Hermione in the side. "Did you make any headway?" he asked in a put-upon whisper. "With Severus, I mean. I assume you two spoke at the party back at Hogwarts?"

"Yes, we did." Hermione rubbed a hand over her brow and tangled it into her bushy hair. "Sort of…"

Harry's expression turned serious. "What do you mean?"

She twisted up her face. "He tried to tell me something," she muttered. "And I think it was important, but we were interrupted and…" She sighed. "Well, I got the impression that there's something holding him back..."

"As in, from the two of you being together?"

"Well, we haven't exactly reached that point yet, now have we?" She grimaced. "I don't know, Harry. He never got that far, alright? But, yes, I think so."

Harry blinked and shook his head. "What? But _why_?"

"I told you. I don't know." She dropped her hand from her hair and started to twist her napkin around. "But it bothers me and I can't help thinking he's not really interested in me in that way."

It was an understatement. She had all but agonised over it, thinking about it from this end and that, and could only conclude that to save her dignity, she wold have to treat him as her friend and nothing more until he made a move in the contrary.

But Harry groaned at her. " _Come on_ , Hermione." He almost hissed out the words. "It's all over his face. How can you possibly think he's not-"

"Listen," she said firmly, "it sounded like he was about to tell me that we're better off apart. And after, he ran for it as though he wanted to avoid me. It would be terribly awkward for me to make yet another move."

She looked away at Ron as he opened a bottle of sparkling wine. "I'd rather have him as a friend than nothing at all…"

"Who's your friend?" Rose wriggled her way in between them and climbed onto Harry's lap. Hermione forced herself to smile.

"Severus is," said Harry below the sounds of celebration around them. "He's your friend as well, Rose, isn't he?"

"Yes, he's my Sev'rus too," confirmed Rose. She picked up Harry's wine glass to give it an experimental sniff. "Do you think we can visit him tomorrow, Mum? I wish we could."

"I know, but I don't have time tomorrow, Rose." Hermione took the glass from her hand before she could take a sip. "In the morning is the ice skating trip with your cousins and I have an appointment for work in the evening, remember?"

Rose's face lit up. "But then I can go see him in the evening, can't I? You don't have to babysit me, Mum, you know that."

"Right…" Hermione exchanged a wry look with Harry, but his grin quickly turned into something wicked.

"Oh, but that's a great idea, Hermione," he said in a silky voice. "Ask Severus to babysit her then. I'm sure he'd be delighted to."

She winced. "I don't know…"

"Yes, you do." Harry squeezed Rose's arms. "Want to help me send him a patronus message?"

" _Harry_!" Hermione scowled, but Rose broke into a delighted smile.

"Yes!"

"You should just _ask_ him about it," said Harry over Rose's head. "This is a golden opportunity. In fact, I want you to promise me that you do. I'm pretty certain you've got the wrong idea. Severus isn't the kind of man to just-"

"Ask him what?" Rose looked between them, suddenly serious. "What did he do?"

"Nothing, honey." Harry stroked Rose's hair. "It's just your Mum who's being a little silly." He gave Hermione a sharp look. " _Promise me_."

"Oh, alright." She huffed. "If you insist. I guess there's nothing to lose but my pride…"

"Exactly." Harry grinned at her and lifted Rose up. He carried her to Ron's side again and put her down next to Gwen before patting Ron on the shoulder.

Hermione sighed. Rose was watching Gwen from the corner of her eye as the adults raised their glasses once more. Their relationship was still tentative. Gwen was friendly and sweet, but her shyness sometimes seemed to inhibit her, especially in front of Ron's only child. It was understandable, but maybe that made Rose a little shy as well, although she'd never had that problem with Severus, who could be even more reserved than Gwen. Perhaps they just hadn't had enough time on their own.

Hermione watched Rose shoot her a glance and turn back to regard Gwen with a thoughtful expression.

Sometimes children were just too perceptive for their own good.

* * *

Hermione had entrusted him with the location of a small cottage on the western shore of the Isle of Skye and his apparation made the salty air around him crackle.

He found himself standing on a snow-clad slope that lead onto the shore some hundred feet below in front of a low stone cottage with a wooden entrance painted in moss green. Light grey smoke rose from the chimney only to be carried off by a biting gust.

Severus' cloak whipped around him as turned around himself in a circle. He cast his eye on the moor and the dark, blue sea, and could imagine the deep green of the moss and heather beneath the snow and how the waves would break white against the sharp cliffs on stormy November nights. An odd, harsh call made him turn his head just in time to see a heron take flight from the rocky beach below. The beat of its wings were slow, almost languid, and it pulled its long neck back as it soared across the water.

This place…something like this was what he wanted, he realised. The weather was perhaps a little strict at times, and the ocean traitorous, but he was no seaman in any case and the chill of winter would not bother him. It was peaceful and quiet, all he could ever ask for, and he could sit at the window in the brightly lit kitchen with his tea and never have to duel a single thing again in his life…

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

He looked to the left a little to find Hermione watching him from the door. She was backlit by the warm glow form a fire and had her shoulder propped up against the wall. He inclined his head.

"Very."

"I was here on a holiday with my parents once," she said. "At Staffin. It's a bit north of here, on the other side." She waved a slim hand over her shoulder. "They used to travel everywhere. My Mum wanted to see the Mesolithic settlements."

"Really?"

She put her feet into a pair of clogs that looked like they had been yellow once upon a time and picked her way across the snow to stand beside him. She looked like she belonged here with her wild hair whipping into her face.

"But that wasn't even the most interesting. There are dinosaur footprints at the beach up there, did you know?"

He looked down at her, oddly soothed by her habit of unnecessary talking. "I had no idea."

"And see here." She pointed at the low stone fence facing the bay, where he could see what looked like tiny black and white fossils sheathed within the wall. "They are from the Jurassic. Over a hundred million years old. Isn't it fascinating?" She shivered.

She seemed…a little nervous perhaps. But he was a little nervous as well. When they last parted, he had been about to reveal himself to her, and he had barely thought about anything else over the holidays. But then he hadn't seen her since, and when Potter's flamboyant stag had galloped through his door the day before, that night had suddenly felt like it was a long time ago.

"I'll take you some time," said Hermione. "To Staffin, I mean." She smiled in a way that made his chest twist up. "But it's nicer in summer. Come inside, it's cold out."

He followed Hermione's example and left his boots by the door. Then he found a coatrack, one that looked like it was made out of driftwood, and left his cloak and jacket there. He didn't feel like he needed an invitation to use the sofa, so he sat down, taking in the comfortable fireplace, the small kitchen with white lace curtains, and the telly that stood on a low wooden table in the corner. To his left, stretching above the doorway to the kitchen, was a narrow staircase to the first floor.

"How are you, Severus?" Hermione brought a kettle out and placed a teacup in front of him. She watched him through the corner of her eye as she poured.

"Same old. And yourself?" He found it a little odd that she would return to platitudes after inviting him on a trip to Staffin just moments before, but he shook it off. It wasn't unusual that she would be the one to take charge of their conversations.

"I've been fine." She sat on a chair opposite him and made a mug for herself as well. "It's been some time since I saw you…"

The space between them was suddenly loaded with all the things that had been left unsaid. Severus watched his cup. It was hot; too hot to grasp as hard as he did now, but his hands had a high tolerance for heat.

"I meant to write to you," Hermione said quietly, "but the Burrow is a…busy place to live."

He cleared his voice. "I can only imagine…"

"Right." She seemed to gather herself as though preparing to take a leap, and he felt his shoulders stiffen.

"We were cut short last time." She folded her hands in her lap. "I felt that perhaps- That maybe you had something on your chest." She tilted her head and the light from the fire caught in her eyes. "Is there something I should know about?"

The heat from his cup became unbearable and he had to put it down. He didn't _want_ to take the coward's way. He'd done that more than once in the past, and it never lead anywhere. What he wanted was to carve a path that they could follow together, but right then, he found he couldn't be pushed. The conversation with Potter was too fresh on his mind. He was taken too much by surprise.

"I- It wasn't anything important." He couldn't look her in the eye. "Don't worry yourself over that. It really wasn't important."

She shrugged, as though to say 'oh, alright', but the set of her jaw indicated that she had expected more from him. He swallowed.

"Where's Rose?"

"Bathroom." She smiled valiantly. "I asked her to change into her nighties so that you only have to help her brush her teeth. Oh, here she is now."

Just then, Rose ran into the room like a breath of fresh air and launched herself at his lap full-force. She secured her balance with a small hand on each of his shoulders.

"Oof!" His spontaneous smile seemed impossible to restrain. He wanted to crush her in a tight hug the way she would sometimes do to him and take in the smell of crayons and summer that seemed to cling to her even though it was the middle of the darkest winter and she might not have been drawing today at all. He would have done it too, had he not been so keenly aware of Hermione, who had stood from her seat and was watching them from the door to the kitchen.

"Hello, Rose," he said, and tried to put this tender feeling into his words instead.

"Sev'rus." She graced him with a radiant grin and pressed her forehead to his so that her flyaway hair brushed against his cheek. "I missed you."

He adjusted one of her pointy knees, which had wedged itself into his thigh. "And I missed you, you little firebolt. Did you have a good holiday?"

"I played with Aunt Ginny's kitten," she said in her clear voice, as though that summed everything up nicely. Severus chuckled.

"Alright. What else did you do?"

She pulled away and thought for a moment, fingering with the cuffs on his shirt. "We went on a sledge…Dad and Uncle Harry built a jump, but it was too big. Al went on it once, by mistake, and he fell off and started to bleed from his nose." Her eyes widened. "Grandma gave him cotton to put up his nostril."

"Did she?" He made his expression to mimic hers. "That's clever. She has fixed many a nose in her life, I'm sure."

Rose nodded. "Mhm. And then, Aunt Angie made soup. It had spices in it. I don't like them very much, but I'm not supposed to say that." She looked over at Hermione warily.

She was watching them with interest, seeming to take in her daughter's words as though they had not been given a chance to sit down and just talk during their family celebration.

"It's okay, Rose. You can tell _him_." Hermione rolled her eyes. "I just thought it was rude to say so directly to Angelina."

"I know, Mum." Rose leaned closer to Severus. "But it was James who said it first."

The words, whispered clumsily and very close to his ear, made him twist out of her reach. Rose giggled.

"I heard that. And it isn't an excuse." Hermione raised her eyebrows at them in question.

"Sev'rus is ticklish," said Rose triumphantly. There was a playful spark in her eyes that he hadn't been privy to until then.

"No, he isn't." Severus grasped both of her arms and struggled to keep his facial expression as neutral as possible. "You're delusional."

Rose giggled even more and squirmed so that he had to struggle to keep her off.

"He seems very ticklish." Hermione's voice was suddenly very close. "Now, if that isn't useful information…"

"I'm not, I- Ah, don't! Traitor!"

As he focused his efforts on fending off Hermione's attack, Rose managed to get access to his ribs. But he had to be careful not to jostle them too harshly, and he soon ended up with Hermione straddling his thighs with a firm grasp on each of his arms.

"No," he panted, "stop it. I surrender."

They both stilled and Hermione and Rose's giggles slowly faded, but instead of pulling off him, Hermione remained in place, watching him with an odd expression.

"What?"

He tried to straighten up a little, but he was too closely wedged into the cushions of the sofa and the movement only served to bring them closer. He could see every freckle on her cheeks and every spot of amber in her eyes, and her breath smelled of mouthwash, the extra strong kind that makes your tongue burn and your eyes water, and which, if he was to be honest, he probably hadn't tried more than once or twice in his life…

"I've just never seen you laugh like that before…"

Her voice was breathy. She looked him directly into the eyes and the moment suddenly seemed too intimate to share with a child nearby. After another heartbeat, she climbed to her feet and straightened her clothes.

Unsure what to do with himself, he turned towards Rose, who was perched on top of the armrest near his head.

"So are you looking forward to go back to school again?" he asked her. She looked down on him as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"I want to be on a holiday always," she said, tugging on his hair a little. "But I also want to be with you."

"Well, you can have him all to yourself tonight." Hermione checked her watch. "Oh, tosh. I'm late."

Rose straightened. "When will you be back?"

"After you're asleep, honey. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"Are you aparcating?"

"I'm apparating, yes."

"To London?"

"Yes." Hermione smiled at her and shook her head. "I've already told you. We're going to the Leaky."

"We?" Severus cleared his throat. He had not meant to voice his question aloud, but there it was.

"Oh..." Hermione frowned. "That will be…it's Cavan, actually. We're going to-"

She must have seen his face fall because she faltered as well and fumbled with her boots.

"It's work-related, of course," she said quickly, "we're just going through some…" She sighed. "It's a long story, Severus. But I'll tell you all about it later, I have to go. I should have been there ten minutes ago…"

"Of course." He tried to brush off the crushing disappointment and stood to offer her a steadying hand. "Don't worry about it, we'll be fine." He turned to look down at Rose. "Won't we?"

"Sure." Rose gave Hermione a quick hug around the waist and waited patiently as she received a kiss to her nose in turn.

"Be good to Severus," said Hermione. "No more tickling. And go to bed when he says so."

Rose nodded and ran off, and Hermione leaned on Severus' arm as she struggled into her footwear.

"Thanks for this."

Her words were spoken softly –almost like a whisper- and he had to bend a little closer to her. "For what?"

"For coming. For taking the time for her." She smiled in that way that made her nose wrinkle up. "She really appreciates you, you know." His heart lurched threateningly when she leaned in to place a soft kiss on his cheek. "I do too. You are my closest friend, after all."

With that, she turned to leave. He held the door open for her and watched her go right until the crack and the flurry of her brown wool cloak accompanied her apparatiton.

Despite the easy way she still teased him, the ground under his feet felt somehow unsecure. Was this perhaps a hint that she regarded him as her friend, and only that? Was it wrong of him to want more when she had just told him she valued him next to, or even above, her other acquaintances?

He couldn't help but wonder if her tally included Hern.

He sank back into the sofa. Behind him, Rose came down from the first floor, dragging a small bag behind her. She stopped in front of him and poured an assorted collection onto the rug on the floor. A couple of dolls, some books, a variety of magical and non-magical animals, and a fire truck.

"You can be Lady Marian," she said, as though it was the most natural thing in the word. She held out the largest doll for him and picked up a plastic tiger. "I'll be Norman. I have wings and a horn, like a unicorn, and when I'm angry I…" She looked up at him and suddenly broke off. A small frown crept onto her little face and she moved closer to his knee.

"Why are you sad?"

He looked up from the doll, which seemed dainty and miniscule between his large hands. "I look sad, hm?"

"Yes." Rose put the tiger away and crawled up on the sofa next to him to rest her head on his upper arm. "You have a line on your face." She reached up to put her finger at a spot between his eyes. "Right there. It makes you look angry even when you're not. But right now it's mostly sad."

He snorted. "Is it now?"

"Sev'rus?" She leaned back a little to look up at him.

"Yes?"

"Uncle Harry talked to Teddy about you. I wasn't supposed to hear, but I did anyway…"

She trailed off and he put his arm around her shoulder lightly. "What is it?"

She bit her lower lip, as though she wasn't sure if she should tell him or not. "He said that Teddy did something wrong," she said eventually, "but then Teddy said that you were mean." She frowned. "Why did he say that?"

"Oh…"

He didn't really know what she was referring to, but chances were that little Lupin had made some sort of complaint about him. It wouldn't be the first time, and was probably also not to be the last. Lupin was too alike his father and reminded him of a past he would rather have forgotten about. Apparently, the dislike was mutual.

"I'm his teacher, Rose," he said, and felt ever so slightly like a hypocrite. "I try not to be mean to him, but sometimes I have to take points away or give him detention if he does not do his schoolwork properly. Do you think that was what they were talking about?"

"I don't know." She thought for a moment. "But if he says that you did something wrong and you say that he did something wrong, who is right then?" She sounded slightly anxious. "I don't understand…"

"I don't know either." He sighed. "But do you think that both of us might have been a little wrong each? Everyone makes mistakes sometimes."

"Even you?"

"Especially me."

Rose was silent for some time after that, longer than what was really ordinary for her, but Severus leaned back into the sofa, comfortable with avoiding his alter ego 'Marian' for another moment or two.

"Mum doesn't really like him," Rose finally said. The indecisiveness had vanished from her face and her little hand was playing confidently with the buttons on his shirt. "I don't mean that she doesn't like him, but she doesn't like him either."

He was appropriately confused. "Teddy?"

"No, of course not." She shook her head against his arm. "Cav."

"She doesn't?" he croaked.

"I don't know." Rose shrugged. "She always has to hurry when he's around…"

He felt very much thrown off guard by that and watched her in silence as she bent to the floor to pick up one of the books that had been in her bag.

"Read to me?"

She put it in his lap. It was the same one that they had read before, and their spot was marked neatly with a yellow Post-it. One of Hermione's.

"I might as well..."

He picked up his glasses and put them on his nose. It felt like a leaden weight had lifted from his chest and he held Rose tightly when she snuggled into his side.

* * *

"I talked to my old partner and he said that the French Ministry keeps tally on the suppliers that deliver to the British Isles." Cavan took a deep sip from his beer. "Usually, there are only two strains, one is muggle and synthetically produced, that's just the pure toxin. The other, the dried flower powder, is much more dangerous…"

The Leaky Cauldron was filled to the brim with Christmas music and holiday guests, the perfect place for a conversation best kept between two. Cavan had pulled her into a hug and declared his stay in France to be boring without her, leaving her flustered and a little shy as per usual.

But this time she had made up her mind. She knew she needed to get him out of the way. Even if Severus hadn't wanted to tell her what was bothering him, the way his face had paled when she told him who she was going out with was a message as clear as any. He always tensed up when Cavan came into a room, or even if only his name was mentioned.

And he just _had_ to ask her, didn't he?

It almost made her smile. Yes, she had made up her mind, but first they needed to get the ever-annoying budget business out of the way. Truth be told, she had lost interest in the mystery as soon as the entries in the Infirmary's bookkeeping had stopped, but Cavan was still going strong.

"And why is it forbidden in Britain then?" She dipped a finger into the foam on her own pint and tasted yeast and citrusy hops.

"Voldemort used it in the war." Cavan scowled over his shoulder to where and elderly woman with purple hair was watching him with a scandalised expression. Many people still favoured the less laden 'you-know-who'.

"It's a nerve toxin," he continued in a more quiet tone, "so it's capable of killing a large number of muggles by poisoning, for instance, their drinking water."

"Right."

"It's…" He frowned and pushed a lock of wavy hair out of his eyes. "That way it doesn't really require someone who is familiar with potions to use it, but I do think…"

"Cavan!" she hissed, "don't tell me you're still thinking about Severus! Honestly!"

"I… no, I suppose not." He sighed and made a non-committal shrug of his shoulders. "It would have made sense if he'd had some connection to the Death Eaters, but… Considering who his boggart is, it's probably unlikely."

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" She huffed. "To what end? Did you expect to learn something incriminating about him?"

Cavan merely grinned with his annoyingly white teeth. "Boggarts are useful creatures…"

"Come on." She snorted. "Why would someone need a nerve agent in a school full of children?"

"Why indeed?" He raised a neatly groomed eyebrow. "It seems unlikely that it is supposed to be used there, doesn't it?"

She shook her head. "But why would anyone need it at all? Unless…"

"Unless they were planning to kill people off without anyone finding out who did it?" His eyes widened innocently and she nearly growled.

"But who would do something like that?"

"You do know what happens in two months' time, don't you?"

"Of course I do. The Death Eaters, but-"

"Avery, Malfoy, Rosier, Lestrange, Greyback. They're all coming out of Azkaban."

"Really?" She narrowed her eyes sceptically. "Their nails are clipped, their wings are shorn. They can't even use their wands."

"I know." He paused when their food arrived at the table. Their waitress gave him a sweet smile in parting and he winked at her before turning back to Hermione. "I'm thinking more about someone on the outside. Voldemort-" he peeked at the old lady with the purple hair again, but she was busy minding her own business. "Voldemort had many followers and not all of them were Death Eaters or snatchers…"

"I guess you're right, but who?" Hermione cut into her pie. It tasted greasy and salty after a week of being spoiled by Molly and she had to wash it down with beer. "Their children are supposedly reformed and the snatchers are all imprisoned or under surveillance."

Cavan grimaced at his own meal and put the cutlery down. "I don't know…"

They sat in contemplative silence for some time, until a sickly romantic tune on the radio made Hermione remember her mission.

"Listen, Cavan. About this-" She waved an arm between them helplessly. "There is something I want to get out of the way, but I don't know how to put it without being too bold."

"Yes?" He watched her, quite relaxed, but she had the impression that he knew exactly what she was hinting at.

"Okay. I'm ah-." She laughed a nervous little laugh. "I'm not looking for a relationship…with you." She winced. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah." He grinned, and it actually seemed genuine. "I've kind of figured that out by myself…"

"Oh." Her fork scraped against her plate. "I thought… At the Christmas party you acted as though…"

"I know." Cavan shifted a little, seeming as close to shy as he could probably ever get. "He likes you too, you know." He scoffed. "Snape. Or perhaps I should say he likes you even more."

Her cheeks heated and she picked up her napkin to hide behind. "What?"

"I enjoy busting his arse about it, I suppose." Cavan didn't seem to notice her fluster. He drummed his nails against the tabletop and watched the people around them. "Always been a little competitive."

She gave a very unladylike snort. "So that's what all this was about? A competition?"

"I think you're very pretty, Hermione." He turned to look her in the eye and smiled. "And I enjoy your company. But…" He shrugged. "I suppose I'm not accustomed to being turned down."

"You're not saying." She shook her head, a little baffled. "I don't know if I should feel used or relieved."

He scoffed. "Why not just flattered?"

"Maybe…" She looked up at him, and the small smile that tugged on his lips. She smiled as well, and shrugged. "I suppose I could be..."

"Friends then?" He held out his hand.

She nodded and they shook as though they were meeting for the very first time.

* * *

She returned home just past twelve o'clock. Cavan had offered to take her, but she had laughed it off, insisting that she was a big girl and skilled at protecting herself.

The cottage was silent and dark apart from the kitchen, the only room where she had electrical lighting. She removed her shoes by the door and tiptoed into the lounge, where she could see the indistinct outline of Severus' head against the back of the sofa. There were only embers left in the fireplace.

She put in another couple of logs and blew life into them with the old bellow she kept in the copper bucket they used for firewood. Only when the flames licked against the sooty bricks inside the hearth did she turn.

Severus was fast asleep. He had untucked his shirt, opened the topmost two buttons and rolled the sleeved up to his elbows. On the coffee table was a cup of cold tea and an opened packet of her favourite shortbread, which she usually kept in the topmost drawer next to the stove. The thought of him taking liberties in her kitchen made her inexplicably pleased.

She pulled out a biscuit for herself as silently as she could manage and sank into the sofa next to him. He looked so calm. The fire crackled and she could feel the warmth seeping in to her body, both from the fire and from the man snoring quietly next to her.

She should wake him, she really should. But she didn't want to.

He would have a crick in his back come morning, and her neck would probably be sore as well, but she found it a small price to pay if she could steal a few precious moments of peace. She wanted him exactly like this. On her sofa, in her home, with her.

She leaned her head on his shoulder and didn't even notice when her eyes drooped shut.


	10. Teachers' Digest

**A/N**

Apparently, I'm evicted from House Snailindor on cause of being too slow. I now belong in the house of the slime that sticks to the ground after a snail has passed by. Charming.

I might add more to this chapter later because I find I'm not exactly terrific at dividing them evenly. If I do, you probably won't recieve an alert, but I'll add a note the next time I update a full chapter so that you can go back if you want to.

* * *

The morning on January fifth brought the heaviest snowfall over Hogwarts that year and the corner room beside the teacher's entrance to the Great Hall was cold and damp.

Severus had opened the door just enough to spy the students who had signed up for Hern's duelling club as they made their way to the house tables, which were set aside to clear the space in the centre of the room. They were lively and he had sent off more than one subtle stinging hex in the direction of those who were brawling to get to the front seats. It was always a hassle when they had to gather all sets, but Filius had promised to be there to help keep them all in line while he and Hern were busy.

The last time he had taught a class in the Great Hall was when his Slytherins had to learn the waltz in preparation for the Triwizard Tournament Yule Ball some sixteen years ago.

It had not been his most stellar moment as a teacher. He was far too self-conscious to be able to dance confidently, least of all with a bunch of giggling, hormonal teenagers, and unlike Filius, he simply did not possess that artistic flair. There was no reason to believe that he would fare better this time around, but at the very least, it was unlikely that Hern harboured a desire to burn up the dance floor with him.

Even Hermione was inside. He could make out her white healers' uniform next to Longbottom with Rose in between them.

To think that it was was only a small week ago that he had woken up with that very same body resting against his side…

He had been aroused by a sharp pain in his back that night. It had been too dark to tell what time it was and he had been about to get up to check on Rose when he realised that the warm weight in his lap was Hermione's head of bushy brown hair. Apparently, she must have decided to have a biscuit before waking him and then she must have nodded off, sliding down onto his thigh.

It was not an everyday experience for him and he was ill equipped to deal with it. Not only had there been a woman asleep next to him, but one who was kind, and beautiful, and whose hair was wild and eyes were warm, and her sweet scent made the toes curl in his boots and sent shivers up his spine and he could feel the heat coming off her…

And she was so way out of his league that it was nearly ridiculous.

Naturally, he had fled, carefully extracting his leg and leaving a conjured pillow in exchange before apparating home. Then, he had spent the best part of a week avoiding her. Coward.

He blinked a few times, trying to make out her expression from across the room, but he hadn't put his glasses on so she looked a little fuzzy. He was still feeling a little gun-shy, unsure where exactly he stood in her affections, and he had to wonder what she was doing there.

Had she come to watch him lose or to watch Hern win?

Was he perhaps wrong to put so little faith in her?

"Assessing the crowds?"

It was a surprise that he would come this way. Severus had expected him to arrive at the main entrance with fanfare, but perhaps he wasn't the only one who was a little on edge after all.

He turned to take in his adversary, who looked disappointingly ordinary with only a pair of Auror-grade combat boots as a change from his usual appearance. Either way, the occasion called for at least some degree of formality and Severus nodded politely.

"Professor Hern."

" _Cavan_ ," grumbled Hern. He shouldered past Severus to peek through the doorway. A minute passed before he spoke again, seemingly more to himself than to Severus, "They've been so rowdy in class lately…"

"I've noticed." Severus took a step back to lean against the wall, noting that Hern seemed a little hunched compared to his typical poise. "Don't tell me you're having second thoughts?"

Hern scoffed absent-mindedly. "Not because of you, if that's what you think."

"No?"

He retreated from the door and turned towards Severus with a frown on his face. "You want to know why?"

"Why, yes. I'm supposed to assist you, am I not?"

"Hm." Hern crossed his arms in front of his chest, giving Severus a measuring look. "I overheard some students in the hall the other day," he said. "They were talking about me."

Severus straightened, noticing for the first time that when they faced off like this, he was a fraction taller than Hern.

"They talk about you all the time."

"I'm sure." He shook his head. "But these girls, they're the shoddiest of my sixth-years, the absolute bottom. Their grades are all over the place."

"Mhm?" Severus shrugged. "Like any other students then."

"No, they're worse," growled Hern. "You wouldn't believe the kind of nonsense they write in their assignments. I'm quite confident they haven't absorbed a single thing I've tried to teach them."

Severus snorted. An upset Cavan Hern was pretty unusual, and he couldn't help but be a little curious. "They sound like normal teenagers to me," he said. "What exactly did they say?"

Hern looked away, seeming to deliberate whether or not to reply. "They said my class is dreadfully boring," he mumbled in the end, "but that at least they had something nice to watch." He gritted his teeth. "They meant my bum."

Severus barked a laugh and Hern shot him a dark look. "I suppose you don't have this problem?"

"Not in the way you describe, I'll admit." Severus huffed. "But few students find Potions interesting. They spend most their energy avoiding me, and then they always have stronger opinions about my hair or nose than they do about the recipes in _Advanced Potion Making_. Which is baffling, I might add. It's a severely flawed text."

"You should write your own then." Hern sighed. "It would be a better use of your time. These kids are far too hare-brained to appreciate our efforts in any case." He cast an arm towards the Great Hall. "I've been wondering if there's any point to this duelling club at all. Will anyone of them even learn a single thing?"

Severus held still for a moment before replying. To experience an existential crisis halfway through the first term as a teacher was common, but Hern had never asked his opinion before. Severus could not have guessed that he would care for it at all, but the question had come out so natural that he felt certain it was genuine.

"They never learn quite in the way that you imagined," he said at last, "but that doesn't mean your teaching is lost on them. Perhaps they just need a few years to digest it."

"A few years, hm?" Hern chuckled. "That's…" He peered up at Severus with a contemplative look. "This is probably true." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed before going back to watch the students through the gap in the door. "Well, at least they're excited about it."

"They're kids. They're always excited about something."

"I suppose." Hern shut the door silently. "I appreciate the advice, Severus," he said, "though I take due note that you're not an optimist."

"I've been teaching for thirty years, I suppose that has a bearing."

"Maybe." Hern brought out his wand and conjured two small brass goblets. "Or maybe the students are right about you and you're just a grouchy old bat." He used his wand to fill them with an amber liquid and offered one to Severus.

"To valour." Hern brought their glasses together with an air that indicated some of his good mood was restored. "I hope you're prepared to take a hit today." He smirked. "At least I have that to look forward to. You're well and truly outclassed and we all know it."

They emptied their glasses in one go and Severus cleared his throat from the burn. "You sound awfully confident. I want to win this too, you know."

"I'm aware of that." Hern made a whiskey-induced grimace. "I'm not just a pretty exterior."

Severus made a surprised face. "You're sure?"

Hern rolled his eyes. "I'm sure." He looked down at the wand that he was twirling around in his hands. It was a light kind of wood that Severus couldn't identify and looked rather on the flexible side.

"You know our little…rivalry, right?"

Severus felt his scowl return.

"Yes, you do," said Hern. "Don't pretend otherwise because then I might not tell you that I've decided you can have it your way."

"My way?" Severus tried not to sound dumbfounded, but some of that must have seeped into his voice anyway because Hern chortled.

"Yes. Take it however you please, but for the time being I'm in search of other…opportunities."

"You are?" Severus searched Hern's face with a hard eye, but the small smile playing around that pair of well-defined lips was not devoid of humour.

"I am."

The urge to push into Hern's mind was compelling, but Severus knew he faced a great risk of discovery. His legillimency was a little rusty these days and the likelihood that Hern was trained in the art was high. He looked down at his own trusty, old wand, which lay waiting in his hands, feeling a little lost.

From Hern's viewpoint, he should probably feel relieved to have been given a clear pass, but he didn't. The problem had never really been Hern. It was suddenly obvious to him that instead, it was Hermione.

Severus had no idea whatsoever what she felt about Hern. Rose had mentioned that she wasn't overly taken by him, but Rose was only a very small child and he couldn't really expect her to interpret Hermione's feelings correctly in such a matter.

Maybe he ought to ask her outright what she thought about him?

He could do that -as a friend- couldn't he?

He looked up to find that Hern was watching him.

"Right…" He rubbed a hand over his face to clear his thoughts. "But if you're no longer interested, then what are we fighting over?"

"Honour and glory. I'm not through with you yet." Hern's eyes glinted. "She's far too good for you."

He banished their cups and opened the door to the Great Hall. As usual, the ceiling never failed to impress and white-silvery flakes of magical snow floated from the rafters down to about four metres above the floor, where they vanished without melting over the student's heads.

Apparently, Filius had arrived because almost all of them were sitting in reasonable silence along the walls. Severus followed behind Hern to the cleared space and while he addressed the students, Severus turned his head slightly to glance across the room towards the three people who were standing near the exit.

Hermione immediately caught his eye and smiled. He barely had time to give Rose a subtle wave before Hern nudged him in the side.

"Ready, old boy?"

Severus nodded. He wasn't shy about fighting a little dirty, but Hern's bold expression told him that this match would not be about conniving or deceit. Surely, the sorting hat must have had bats in the belfry because the battle between the Slytherin heads seemed set up to be more Gryffindor than Godrick himself.

Or then again, maybe it was _his_ attic that had acquired rats and he was turning Hufflepuff in his old age. The possibility was certainly there.

"First blood or to the death?" he asked Hern in a voice low enough that the student couldn't hear.

Hern chuckled. "Let's just give them their money's worth, hm?" He bowed deeply and with a flourish of his wand let his own cloak fall to the side. "You'll know it when you've lost."

Despite himself, Severus felt his lips twitch. "Fair enough."

They turned their back on one another and counted ten steps. Then, as one, they twisted and the blue light from both of their disarming spells met with a crack and a shower of sparks dead in the centre of the room.

Severus discovered quickly that duelling Hern was not like duelling Potter. Where Potter jumped around dodging spells like a gnat, Hern fought with old-fashioned refinement, relying more on defensive spells than on acrobatics. Although this suited Severus well, Hern was quicker and younger.

" _Expelliarmus_!"

" _Protego_!"

Through the flurry of their movements, he could see that Hern's knuckles had turned white around his wand. They remembered their aim to educate at first, but when an _arresto momentum_ whistled past just by his ear, Severus gave up on voicing his incantations aloud.

Within seconds, Hern must have started to use wandless magic, because several candles from above found their way to Severus' coat.

In reply, he cast a strong _levicorpus_.

Hern blasted it aside. They struggled to disarm.

Then, something hit Severus hard on the side of his chin and a metallic taste filled his mouth. Time seemed to stop and for a moment they just stood there, equally perplexed. They were both breathing hard. Hern's shirt has sweat-marks beneath his arms. Severus' coat had settled awkwardly over his shoulders. He gingerly touched his face and Hern waited, looking like he was debating over what to do next.

As from a great distance, Severus could hear a nearby student ask, "Is it over already?" but then, like it had been planned that way from the very beginning, they both raised their wands anew.

During the short respite, he had spotted Filius' displeased expression a few metres to his right, but Severus didn't care right then. He was determined not to be beaten by the cocky bastard, and equally determined not to allow Hermione to see him fail. The stone floor beneath him was hard and a little slippery and he fought not to let his incantations hit the spectators.

Their spells became more aggressive. Hern had to duck low to avoid a well-aimed _impedimenta_ and Severus managed to hit him on the arm with a sharp stinging hex. Then, a stunner graced his shoulder with a hot flash of pain before it hurled by, like a crackling whirlwind of energy.

The students dissolved into a blur around him. He gripped his wand tightly. When he slashed it through the air, the force from his blasting curse made Hern stumble. Then, a lightning-fast _incarcerous_ came in return, but he managed to twist away from the ropes with a grace his bad arm didn't usually allow. Half a heartbeat later, his tempest jinx hit Hern's shoulder with a sharp hiss and a cloud of light-grey smoke.

He froze, afraid for the fraction of a second that he had gone too far, but Hern's next set of spells were like a hailstorm. It was a shot of spite and grudging admiration to discover that he had changed his wand hand.

The sparks from missed hexes blinded him. He could hear his own rapid breathing. A smell like fireworks or gunpowder made his heart beat quickly. Severus struggled for the upper hand.

All of a sudden, one of his spells flew off in the wrong direction. On instinct, he dived forward and threw the strongest shield in his arsenal, willing it to mould around a fragile-looking first-year on the front bench. The girl's eyes were absurdly large and he distantly noted that her long plaits were the same shade of red as Rose's.

Almost in slow-motion, he watched a shower of sparks crash into his shield and rain down around her. But he barely had time to take in her shocked expression before Hern's next assault forced him to pull back.

He could feel his hand becoming damp where he gripped his wand. His throat and chest ached from the effort. The short end of the room was suddenly close behind him.

Then Hern fired two curses in quick succession. The first one somehow brought Severus down on one knee, the other –cast to hurt- made his left sleeve wet with blood. He was about to twist himself back up, but a magically magnified voice rang loud across the hall and he stilled.

"That's enough! I think you two have quite made your point."

Filius was suddenly standing between them and his expression indicated that perhaps the 'demonstration' had gone a little out of hand. Severus fought to reclaim his breath.

On the other side of Filius, Hern was looking a little dazed. His clothes had scorch marks and there was a bruise high on his forehead. Severus climbed awkwardly to his feet. He knew he didn't fare much better than Hern. Despite the horrid taste in his mouth from where he had bitten the inside of his cheek, he could still smell the blood that trickled from his arm.

Subtly, he folded his hands behind his back, only to face a pair of hard, narrowed eyes from Filius. He looked nothing like a soft-spoken choirmaster when he cast a sound barrier between them and the students.

"This is not what you described in the proposal you gave me, Cavan," he said. "I'm used to a certain degree of obstinacy form Severus, but I never thought that you would be this irresponsible."

Hern winced.

"I will dismiss the students for you as you're both due for a trip to the Infirmary, but this is not the last word we'll be having."

Severus turned to look for Hermione, but the spot she had occupied before was empty and Rose and Longbottom were gone as well. He sighed. She was not an admirer of violence and he feared that her reaction to him losing his head like this might not be sympathetic.

Then again, she would probably be mad at Hern too.

Filius snapped his fingers at him in irritation. "I expect to see the two of you in my office later."

They watched him stalk off towards the teachers' table. The charm around them dissipated with a sharp pop and Hern shifted uneasily. "I hope he doesn't suspend us for endangering the students," he whispered.

Severus almost felt a little bad for him. "Far worse things happens in this school on a regular basis," he said evenly. "I don't think you need to worry."

"Indeed. But oh my, that was…" Hern put a hand on his forehead, ignoring the way the torn buttons on his shirt left half his shoulder exposed. "I got myself a little carried away…"

Severus grunted, clutching a hand over his arm. "You were not the only one," he muttered, voice a little strained. He nodded at Filius. "Let's just get out of here before he feeds us to the thestrals"

"No, really." Hern let his voice fall and scowled at the students who were watching them with wide eyes. "I'm sorry. And I think you should do what he said, actually. Go to the Hospital Wing. That was a nasty severing charm you took."

"It's fine." Severus tried to brush him off, but truthfully, he was a little light-headed. His lower left arm felt like someone had poked a thorny twig into it.

Hern chuckled to himself.

"What?"

"Isn't it ironic?" he said as the door to the Great Hall closed behind them. "Previously I agonised over whether or not the student would learn anything from this, but then we go ahead and do this."

"I could have told you from the beginning." Severus just shook his head. "At least that little girl I nearly hexed will remember."

"She'll remember _something_ , that's for sure." Hern huffed. "Let's hope she doesn't tell her parents. They might file an official complaint."

"I'm sure they will," grunted Severus. "They do that all the time."

"They do?" Hern put a hand on his back as they hobbled through the corridor. "Listen, Seveurs," he said, "I mean it. I admit I wanted to put you in your place, and for a moment there, I felt right good about it too." He steered them firmly away from the Dungeon stairs and towards the first floor. "But that spell, it was unnecessarily harsh. I should have kept to the demonstration."

"Never mind," said Severus. "Your reflexes are quicker than mine. I suppose you won that fair and square."

"You're just out of shape." They had arrived at the Infirmary and Hern opened the large wooden door. "Listen, there's a thing I've neglected to tell you."

"What is it now?" Severus groaned. It felt like he had been yanked around by Hern all day and he was quickly nearing the limit to the amount of exposure he could take in such a short time.

"I lied about the boggart," said Hern. "It was me."

"I know that."

"I know you know, but I wanted to say it anyway." He grinned. "In fact, I feel a great deal better already."

"Indeed," said Severus flatly. He frowned, but Hern placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a little shake.

"I should probably be a bit gentler with you from now on." He made a mischievous face. "You're getting on in years, after all."

Sometime over the course of that day –or perhaps it had even been longer, Severus had not really paid attention until now- something had shifted between them. Still, it seemed as though Hern had entered a competition with Potter over who could annoy him the most.

And he was fast on his way to winning.

"You must be delusional." Severus half turned on him. "You might recall that my hit on you was potentially the most deadly."

"Perhaps." Hern shrugged. "But I got you first. Just remember that although I'm feeling a bit bad about knocking you off your feet right now, it doesn't mean I'll lay off you for ever."

"You are a conceited arse, Hern."

Severus scowled, but even he had to admit that Hern was a decent duellist. And probably also decent in other ways, damn him.

They shared an even look.

"It's Cav," murmured Hern, sounding a little exasperated. "I've told you people numerous times."

Their moment was interrupted by a stern, feminine voice,

" _Men_. I don't believe you two!"


	11. Teddy Lupin

**A/N**

 **No need to go back, I decided to just wade on from here.**

* * *

"Is everything a competition to you?"

Hermione glared at the two idiots who were bickering just inside of her Infirmary door. They turned in unison, looking suitably ashamed.

"That was…" She palmed her forehead. "I can't believe you are so childish. "You're both worse than Ron and Harry ever were. What made you completely lose your faculties like that?"

She watched them expectantly. Severus stood stiffly with his hands behind his back. Cavan shifted his feet and peeked at her through a lock of his hair.

"It's my fault," he said sheepishly. "I lost my head. You know what I'm like, can't lose if it kills me." He jerked his head. "And he's a tough nut to crack, your Severus."

Hermione scoffed, willing her face not to redden. "I clearly remember you both throwing curses like madmen," she said, ignoring Cavan's offhand remark. "I thought this was going to be a demonstration of shielding and disarming spells."

"Well…we-"

"You realise that Miss Montague is in one of my beds right now?" She waved a hand over her shoulder. "I had to give her a sleeping draught to calm her. She couldn't form a single coherent sentence."

Cavan winced. "That's a bit…unfortunate..."

"Rose saw you," she hissed, pointing a finger directly at Severus' chest. "She probably thinks you're some kind of lunatic by now."

They both watched their feet and she shook her head.

"I swear, one day I'm going to throw the both of you in the Black Lake."

Severus cleared his throat. "You'll have to get in line," he said in his slow, mellow voice, "Filius has already claimed first rights."

"He'll gut us, for sure." Cavan made a shuddering movement. "I don't think I ever saw him this agitated."

"He was angry, hm? That's a rare occasion." She felt the corner of her lip twitch despite herself. "You have it coming for you then. Not that you don't deserve it."

"Right." Cavan stole a glance at Severus. "Hermione, I think you should have a look at Severus' hand. I caught him with _diffindo_ rather roughly."

She looked between them noticing that Severus held his left shoulder low, as though he were in pain. Cavan's shirt was torn and burnt. She sighed.

"Fair enough. Come inside."

She turned and waved them along to her office, where she pushed Severus down to sit on one of the closest beds. He seemed grateful, which perhaps should be faintly worrying. Degree of severity would normally have prompted her to examine his arm first, but for reasons she didn't care to scrutinise right then, she turned to Cavan.

"Well?"

He removed his shirt gingerly to reveal a scorch mark high on his shoulder. She approached and took his arm gently, angling it to have a better look.

"It looks like first-degree, but…" She glanced at Cavan's hands to assess their size. "One to two per cent by palmar surface, so it isn't serious." She released him. "There's some sweltering though."

She turned to Severus who was watching them from his seat. "This is from a lightning bolt, if memory serves?"

"Tempest."

She nodded. "It's good it didn't hit the face." She palpated the injury, pressing her fingers into the skin in places to check for capillary refill. "But you'll be fine, Cavan, it's mostly superficial."

Her uniform had a special breast pocket for her wand and she brought it out to retrieve some potions. "I'm going to clean it," she explained in her patient-voice, "and then I'll apply a mild cooling charm that will last an hour. Dittany takes care of the blisters."

Cavan scowled at Severus over her head. "If I'm disfigured, I'll bring a lawsuit against you," he grumbled. "I've always had a great complexion."

She heard Severus snort behind her. "Might take you down a peg or two," he offered, sotto voce. "That would make all our lives easier."

"Some women find scars handsome, actually." Hermione wafted away the smoke from the anti-septic potion and applied dittany to Cavan's shoulder. "They'll be fawning all over you after this, if they weren't already."

She glanced over at Severus, catching his eye, but he looked away quickly.

He had been avoiding her and although she wanted to interpret his tense shoulders as jealousy, she wondered if it rather had something to do with her breaching his personal space so boldly last weekend. It wasn't easy to tell; he always kept his cards so close to his chest, and Rose hadn't been around either to break the ice. It was a relief that Ron had brought her in the night before because he was going to Romania to play, but Hermione felt incredibly silly for relying so much on her daughter to sort out her love affairs.

Not that there was much of an affair to write home about.

"All done." She straightened and offered Cavan the small vial of dittany. "Use it once tomorrow and once the day after, and the scarring should be reduced. You can apply some to your forehead as well if you're concerned about that."

"Thanks." He sat down on the bed opposite to Severus and examined his shoulder critically. She rolled her eyes.

"Put these back on." She threw his clothes on the bed beside him with a smile. "Filius won't like it if you parade through the castle half-decent."

She turned to stand before Severus while Cavan sorted out his shirt.

"How did you fare then?"

"He lost," said Cavan from behind her, "in case you missed that part."

Severus held his left arm carefully against his side and she felt a little bad for having him wait so long. His sleeve was in tatters and his hand was covered in stripes of dried and fresh blood.

"Hm." She tapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Remove the shirt, would you?"

He blanched. "What? No…"

She almost smiled at the way his cheeks turned slightly pink. "I can't fix that with this in the way." She tugged lightly at the sleeve of his coat, well above the cut.

He made a grimace, but after a moment's deliberation, did what he was told. He dropped his coat and shirt at the floor with a steely glare over her shoulder.

They both ignored Cavan's snigger. "I'll just clean it up a little," Hermione said, using _tergeo_ to get a clear view of Severus' arm. She brought a chair over to sit in because she could tell the injury was not in a good place for him.

She was about lean close, hell bent on remaining professional and not ogling his upper body, when a crash behind her indicated the flagon of dittany had fallen to the floor. She whipped her head around.

"What's the ma-?"

Cavan had managed to put his clothes on, but his face had suddenly gone as white as a sheet. He stared.

"Cavan?" She straightened and felt Severus do the same. "Are you-?"

She didn't have time to complete the question before he fled from the Hospital Wing in a flurry of green robes. The door closed behind him with a bang.

Bewildered, she turned back to Severus. "What on earth was that about?"

"I've no idea." He frowned, mirroring her own expression.

"Do you think he was ill?"

Severus shook his head. "Not judging by the speed…"

"Hm, probably not." She brought his hand into her lap and bent over it once more. "It isn't like him to run off without a word though, is it? Do you suppose he's angry about something?"

"I don't know." Severus shrugged, jostling his arm slightly and she held it firmer. "He is a little odd sometimes, isn't he?" he asked quietly. "But until today, I've always thought that he…"

There was a prolonged silence in which Hermione was unable to concentrate on healing. Their knees were touching and instead she took full advantage of her position while pretending to examine his cut. It was with a jolt of excitement that she realised she could see him up close from the corner of her eye.

Severus didn't quite have Ron's athletic build -her only former lover. His body was more mature and he had a few scars, most prominently the ones on his throat, but his shoulders were broad and his arms looked strong and he had dark hair on his chest. Something in her stomach fluttered because when she squinted, she could see that a trail of it went down into his trousers.

Warm air tickled the side of her cheek when he sighed. She breathed it in.

Desperate to relieve the tense atmosphere, she searched around for something to talk about and a particular scar on his side caught her attention. It was faded and stretched, and looked like he must have got it when he was very young.

"You had an appendectomy?"

"Hm?" He started slightly. "Oh. Yes."

He sounded like his thoughts were far away. Or maybe he was embarrassed, Hermione couldn't tell for sure. He was half-naked, after all. "I noticed your scar," she said quickly. "They're not that common on witches or wizards." She gave a tentative smile. "Not on non-magical folk either anymore, they do it by laparoscopy. Was it long ago?"

"Ah, I think I was eight or ten," he said absently. "I don't remember…"

"Okay." She cleared her voice, feeling awkward. She couldn't even focus on her job in his presence. "I'm going to use a diagnostic charm for you," she said, raising her wand. "I'm worried that the-"

His eyes darted towards her. "There is no need." He pushed her arm down, gently this time. "It's only a cut."

She frowned. "But what if a tendon is severed? I-"

He shook his head. "I can move just fine. Look." He flexed his fingers for her. "You don't have to."

"You don't like hospitals much, do you?" She bit her lip. "Or perhaps it's me who's making you uncomfortable?"

He gave her an alarmed look and she hurried to add, "It's alright. I'll just stitch you up and you can come back later if there's a problem. Or you could go to St. Mungo's. There's a nurse at Spell Damage called Maltby. He'll take good care of you."

The sting of rejection washed back up her sense of professionalism and she used the heavy silence that followed to cast the proper healing charms to seam the skin and flesh on Severus' forearm back together.

In her fluster, she forgot both the wound-cleaning potion and the pain-reliever, but he didn't seem to notice.

"He likes you though, doesn't he?"

She had never heard him speak so softly, not even to Rose, but the question startled her all the same.

"Pardon?"

"Hern," said Severus, his tone a little off. "He has told me there's nothing between you, but I've seen the way he looks at you…"

She finished healing his arm feeling like a deer caught in headlights. Was he actually asking, or was he still puzzling over Cavan's odd behaviour? Her brain picked up speed to a hundred miles an hour, but all it seemed able to do was to rocket around in loops and circles.

"Er, you mean to say you think that's why he ran off?"

"I wouldn't know. Maybe." Severus looked away. "But don't you like him too?" He glanced back up at her and there was something fragile in his eyes. "It seems you should…"

"What?" She recoiled.

"It's fine, Hermione," he hurried to say, "I don't mind. If you do, I'll back off, I-"

On its own accord, her hand shot out towards him. "What? _No_!"

There was a hitch in his breathing. "You don't?"

"That depends on what you- Of course I don't like him!" she blurted. "How could I? He isn't _you_. For months I've been trying to drop you hints, but you've never taken me up on them and-"

The world spun and her mouth felt like a desert, but for some reason, all she was able to do was blabber on at top speed.

"-and I was always so afraid you only spent time with me because you wanted to be around Rose-"

It was as though the tension she had felt found its only release through her mouth. It was unstoppable.

"-and then Harry said that I should just ask you outright and that you'd never play me for a fool, but then I wondered because you tried to tell me something important and then you wouldn't say what it was-"

Severus' eyes were locked on hers, like he was unable to look away.

"-and then, when we met the other night, I wanted you to stay, but you left and I thought perhaps I was mistaken-"

Surely, he couldn't be looking at her like that?

Somehow, they must have moved closer because she could smell him now. Sweat and pepper-up potion and _man_ and…

"-and then Cavan says that he's been competing with you and I don't know what to think because maybe you're just competing too and - oh my, I've said too much."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't even know if you…"

She felt a large, warm hand on her cheek and her thoughts stilled, but her heart raced. When she looked up, they were inches apart. Severus' Adams' apple moved up then down. She shivered.

And his lips brushed against hers, like a silent question, and everything around them –the sounds of the students leaving the Great Hall, the chatter of people outside the door, the rustle of fabric as she met him half-way- all went silent. Joy erased every other feeling. It fluttered in her stomach, pricked the corners of her eyes, and lodged itself deep in her bones.

His face had the slightest bit of late-day stubble and she knew then that every other kiss she had had in her life was wrong.

She parted her lips, nose-to-nose and breath-to-breath, cautiously reaching out to touch his bare chest. She could feel his heart beating fast beneath her hand, unaware of anything but how close they were and how she wanted him closer still, and didn't care when her large front teeth scraped his bottom lip.

He pulled away, inhaling deeply, but only so far that he could rest his forehead lightly against hers. She smiled, traced her thumb across a bruise on his cheek, tucked some of his smooth, dark hair behind his ear. He leaned into her palm.

"Hermione," he said hoarsely, "I-"

The door to the Hospital Wing suddenly opened with a loud creak and the sound of approaching feet made them draw apart quickly. Severus was on his feet in an instant.

"Mum! Sev'rus!"

Rose's light, hurried steps darted across the Infirmary floor and soon enough, Neville's voice cut out, "I'm sorry, Hermione, she insisted! I hope it's alright, I- Oh…"

Hermione wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye. They both turned to see Neville stop dead in his tracks. His head swivelled back and forth between them before his face went beet red.

" _Oh_. _Right_." He stood there for a moment in dumbfounded silence and then spun on his heel. They faintly heard him mumble, "I'll just… I'll be in my office in case you need me…"

Rose didn't seem to notice that anything out of the ordinary had happened as she threw herself at Severus's waist. "You were bleeding," she said in a small voice, eyes widening when she saw the stitched cut that spanned from Severus' wrist and half-way up his lower arm.

"I'm alright, see? Your mum made it all better." He turned his hand to show her, glancing up at Hermione. His crow's feet had deepened and his eyes were fond and she smiled back, heart soaring.

"Did you?" Rose looked up in admiration and Hermione let out a breath, feeling a little light-headed.

"That's what a healer does, Rose."

Severus dropped down on the bed. "Huh, I'll be sore tomorrow."

Hermione laughed softly. He had no one to blame but himself.

"Where are your clothes?" Rose climbed up to sit next to him, her eyes searching for other sings of injury. They landed on his throat. "Is that where the snake bit you?"

Severus merely dipped his head, but Hermione nudged her arm. "Rose, you didn't have to ask that. It's considered a little rude to point out other people' scars."

"Oh. Like the scar on your chest, Mum?"

"Well, yes," said Hermione, a little awkwardly. "I suppose."

Severus watched her curiously, looking as though he wanted to ask about it, but Rose looked up at him again.

"I'm sorry, Severus," she said easily, leaning her head on his arm. "Your stomach is different from Daddy's."

Suppressing a snort of laughter, Hermione was about to let her know that wasn't necessarily polite either when Rose took Severus' left hand in her little ones.

"What's this?"

Severus became very still. "That's…" He looked up at Hermione, plainly unsure.

"That's a magical brand, Rose," she said, thinking fast and regretting that she had put Rose off the scar topic. "It looks a little bit like a tattoo. You know, like the one Aunt Ginny has on her ankle."

"But Aunt Ginny has a butterfly," said Rose, not quite touching the mark. "This one looks different, it looks..."

'Malevolent', Hermione's mind supplied, unbidden.

"…mean."

"Well…it's not quite a tattoo, you see, it's, ah…" Hermione faltered.

Severus ran a hand over his mouth, groaning softly. "You're right, Rose," he said. "It isn't very nice at all. I got it a long time ago, but now I wish I never had it."

Rose seemed confused. "Then why did you get it?" she asked. "Did someone make you?"

"No…" Severus picked up his shirt and coat and started to put them on. "No one made me, but I didn't quite understand what…ah, how _mean_ it was, at that time."

Rose frowned. "You didn't know then?"

"I knew it wasn't nice," said Severus, "but I didn't realise how it would influence me, and others. But when I finally did, the damage was done and it was too late."

Hermione had to look away. This part of Severus was one she didn't know very well, but she could feel his shame like it were her own.

Since she was unaware what the mark signified, Rose's eyes held only concern. Severus winced slightly when meeting her eyes.

"You can't take it away?" asked Rose, mistaking his expression. "When I get ink on my skin, Mum uses her wand to clean it off." She looked at Hermione imploringly.

"No. I'm afraid not," she said.

Rose looked up at Severus. "Does it hurt you?"

"No, not in particular." He struggled with his buttons, reminding Hermione once again to provide him a pain-reliever. "It used to hurt many people, but now, the magic in it is sleeping very deeply and I don't think it will bother anyone again." He added so quietly that Hermione almost couldn't hear, "that's what I hope in any case."

"Maybe we should let Severus put his clothes back on," she said lightly, reaching out to assist with the last few buttons that Severus seemed about ready to give up on.

"Don't mother me, Hermione," he murmured, but dropped his hands at his sides nonetheless.

"Since you and Cavan decided to act like a fine pair of teenage Gryffindors, it seems I have to." She winked at Rose, who grinned. "You should take a dose of this tonight, Severus." She waved her wand and a bottle of pain-reliever soared into her outstretched hand.

"I think I need to get some rest," said he, accepting the potion without a fuss. "Maybe Hern is right about me after all and I'm getting old. It feels like someone beat me up."

Hermione clucked her tongue. "Don't tell him that, or you'll never hear the end of it."

"Mm." His lips quirked up in a smile that made her stomach flutter. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"Can I go with you Severus?" asked Rose. She looked up at Hermione. "Please, Mum. I don't want him to leave."

Hermione knew Severus well enough by now to guess that he couldn't say no to that. She sighed. "We'll be having supper now, Rose," she said before the girl invited herself for a sleepover. "We're heading in the same direction so you can walk Severus home before we go to the Kitchens."

Rose was delighted about that and she skipped ahead of them through the corridors. A few straggling students were about, scattering hither and yon when they passed. When they reached the Dungeon stairs, Hermione moved closer to Severus. Subtly, so that no one would be able to tell, she reached out to take his and in her own. His fingers were warm and strong when he traced his thumb over her knuckles.

It felt like walking inside of a dream. Like they were already a family. It almost felt too good to be true.

Rounding the Potions classroom, they saw Teddy loitering about a little bit ahead of them. His eyes changed from bright blue to hazel when he saw Rose. "Hullo, Teddy," said Hermione brightly, letting go of Severus' hand.

"Hiya." Teddy waved at Rose and grinned before skirting off with a wary glance at Severus.

But Severus seemed like he had not noticed the boy at all. His gaze was locked on something in the middle distance.

"What the…?"

Suddenly he was off in a flat-out run down the corridor, coat whipping out behind him. Hermione stared.

"Mum?" Rose caught her hand. "What's the matter?"

Hermione blinked, watching Severus lash out his wand and disappear through the opening that lead to his rooms. Someone or something had left the door wide open.

"Come."

Hermione pulled Rose along to catch up. There was something urgent about the way Severus' quarters had been ransacked. Papers were everywhere and his single flowerpot -a wormwood, she had checked- had toppled over. The books in his shelves and the cushions on his sofa were a-jumble. A teacup lay in shards beneath the kitchen sink. Even his bedroom had been disturbed.

Severus stood in centre of the destruction. "Shite," he muttered, not caring that Rose watched him with wide eyes. He gripped his hair, spinning once around. "Fuck."

Hermione took a step towards him. "Severus, please don't swear in front of-" She nodded her head at Rose. "Do you think Peeves did this?"

"I have a spell against him." Severus' eyes darted back and forth. "Someone must have been searching for something. They- Oh, no…" He paled.

"Why would anyone go through your rooms? It seems odd, doesn't it?" Hermione watched him carefully. "Don't you think you're overreacting?"

"Not now, Hermione!" He was panting. "I have to-"

Something seemed to come over him and he eyed the door suspiciously. Faintly she thought she heard him mutter 'uncanny eyes' and something that sounded vaguely like 'werewolf' to himself. Then, he ran off again, this time towards the Kitchens.

"No, Severus!" Hermione turned on Rose. "Wait here!"

" _Mum_! No!" Rose held her arm tightly. "Don't leave…"

"Sweetie, it's alright." She laid a hand on Rose's hair. "I'm going to find out what's happening, but this isn't something dangerous, I'm sure. Hold on for a moment and just wait for me. You can stay in the corridor if you want to."

Rose nodded weakly. Hermione pulled herself out of her grasp and took off in pursuit of Severus. She could hear agitated voices and she hurried to catch up.

He had Teddy cornered by the fruit-bowl painting, looking quite deranged.

"I already told you," yelled Teddy, "I didn't do it! You must be out of your mind!"

"You little…" Severus had caught hold of the lapels of Teddy's uniform and he pushed him roughly up against the portrait. Hermione grasped his arm.

"Severus, no!"

She knew she must have hurt him with her fingers digging into the wound she had just healed, but right then, Teddy's wellbeing felt far more important. Severus never even noticed, seemingly blinded by fear or some sort of madness.

" _Legillimens_."

Teddy wailed in outraged shock.

"Severus, stop it," she cried, "You can't!"

But it was as though he didn't hear her. For several seconds he remained rigid while Hermione fruitlessly tried to break them apart. Then Severus abruptly let go, looking rattled.

"What did you just do to me?" whispered Teddy. He stumbled back, breathing hard.

Severus blinked. "I-"

Tears of betrayal welled up in Teddy's eyes. "You are _evil_!" he half-yelled, half-sobbed. "What did you _do_?"

Hermione stepped between them, allowing Teddy to escape. He ran off in the direction of the Hufflepuff common room, almost tripping over his feet. She threw her arms wide.

"What possessed you?"

Severus gripped her hand. "Not now, Hermione," he said urgently, "There's something I need to check, I-"

"That _spell_ ," she hissed, wrenching away. "It's a violation! It should be forbidden! How _could_ you?"

Severus shook his head, black hair whipping about his shoulders. "Hermione, you don't understand." He stepped closer. "Someone was in my room and I thought it was him, but now that I know it wasn't, it's even more important that I-"

Hermione interrupted him with a scoff. She backed away, eying the man she had come to know as quiet, and reserved, and a little shy.

"You crossed a line just now," she said sombrely. "That spell, it's simply cruel. Would you do something like that to me?" She swallowed. "Would you do it to Rose?"

"Hermione, no! I would never-"

"But you could do it to Teddy?" she hissed. "Honestly. The boy is only twelve. I thought better of you!"

"Don't fight!"

They both stopped, turning to see Rose a little way down the corridor. There were tears on her cheeks.

"Please don't fight…"

Hermione's eyes met with Severus' startled ones for a brief moment. Then, she whipped around, turning her back on him. She hurried towards Rose, leaving him standing alone in the corridor.

"I'm sorry, I- Hermione!"

The sound of boot-clad feet swallowed his plea.

Without warning, two people rounded the corner with confident strides. Hermione froze. It was a young woman and an older man with his long, white hair in a ponytail. They wore the official red of the Ministry's Auror Office.

Without wasting a glance on Hermione or Rose, they approached Severus and crowded him up against the wall. The woman trained her wand on him, aiming it directly at his heart.

"Severus Snape," she said. "You are under arrest. Present us your wand or we shall take it by force."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. For a fleeting moment, Hermione thought Severus was going to turn his wand on them and fight. His knuckles were white around the hilt of it and apart from the rapid rise and fall of his chest, his body was as tense as a snake coiled to strike. But then, his eyes fell on something behind her and slowly he relaxed, seeming to be taken over by a calm that appeared almost unnatural.

Hermione glanced over her shoulder to see Rose standing in the shadows, a frightened expression on her little face. Her heart wrenched.

"Mr. Snape?" The older Auror moved slightly and Severus' arms dropped to his sides. He didn't resist when the young woman extracted the wand from his hand.

"Wait!" Hermione caught a sniffling Rose in a one-armed hug, bringing her along when she approached the two strangers. Her head spun.

"Why are you arresting him?" she asked shrilly. She searched Severus' face for answers, but he looked away, dark hair falling in front of his eyes like a shield. "On what charges?"

The young woman raised a single eyebrow as though to say 'and what is it to you?' but the older one took a brief look at Rose and replied evenly, "Possession of illegal substances and suspicion of Death Eater activities. I suggest you take your daughter out of our path, Mrs…?"

"You must be insane!" cried Hermione around the lump in her throat. "What exactly are you going to do to him?"

"He will go to Azkaban to await trial." The woman took Severus by the arm, steering him away from the kitchens' entrance. "Now, please leave. Your employer will receive an official notification, and I expect, inform the staff in the morning. To avoid the spreading of inaccurate rumours, I suggest you keep this to yourself until that time."

Who did this witch think she was? Hermione felt powerless in the face of her cold indifference. Could she not tell that a piece of her world was crumbling?

Feeling shaken, and shattered, and alone, holding Rose's hand tightly, all she could do was stare after them in disbelief as they disappeared down the hall.

She wanted Severus to turn his head, to acknowledge her, to let her know that everything was going to be all right. But he didn't.


	12. The Potion

"Sit."

The hand on Severus' shoulder pushed him down none-too-gently onto a wooden chair in the centre of the grey-tiled, bare-walled room.

There was a sturdy desk up front, heavy metal legs with a thick wooden plate. The Aurors, Williamson, he had learned, the man, and Proudfoot, the young woman, took seats beside it. They crossed their feet, almost in unison. All guards of Azkaban were human these days. Shacklebolt had dismissed the Dementors during the ethical reform that followed the end of the war well over a decade ago.

He watched their serious expressions. Both of them kept their wands out, indicating that he was under high-security surveillance. The place was heavily warded, with anti-apparation jinxes and wards in addition to the Auror watchers who were armed with batons and wands. His wand had been taken somewhere else. He never learned what they had done to it, but could only hope it was not snapped it in half already.

Proudfoot watched him with a hostile frown on her face, apparently waiting for something or someone. She had never once taken her eyes off him, even as she had thrown a bundle of clothes into his arms -a grey prison uniform made of coarse, itchy wool- and told him to disrobe upon arrival.

He broke eye contact, supressing a sigh. Her mind seemed already made up and he was not surprised. This was the Ministry of Magic he was dealing with, after all. They were unlikely to believe in an old criminal like him.

Being back in Azkaban was a harsh reality-check. He had been aware of the danger for years, of course, but had not cared so much about it until quite recently. The anxiety churning in his stomach had not so much to do with the situation, as with the need to explain himself to Hermione.

He felt shame colour his cheeks when he thought of Edward Lupin.

The only chance he would ever have of a family of his own now lay in ruins. He knew how much Hermione hated everything related to mind-magic. This was just as it had been with Lily. Years before, he had vowed for it never to happen again. Sworn it to himself, simply because he knew he couldn't take it. That his tattered old heart would not survive another time. But apparently, his ability to keep promises had failed him because he had recognised the sting at once, when that sharp arrow pierced his heart as second time. He had been lost from the moment that Rose caught up with him in the Dungeon hall.

The metal door behind him ground on its hinges as it opened and he turned his head to see a tall, bald man in red robes. He greeted Williamson and Proudfoot with a curt nod and dumped a heavy paper folder down onto the desk.

"I am Auror McFadgen," the bald one said without looking at Severus. He open the thick pile of sheets onto the first page. "Do you know why you are here?"

"No." Severus met Proudfoot's narrowed eyes and locked his arms in front of his chest. He was in dire need of a cunning plan. If he wanted to see Rose again and give Hermione the apology she deserved, he had to get out, and quickly, if only for a short time…

McFadgen picked up the sheet to hold in front of his face in the dim light. "Severus Snape," he said, "you stand accused of the illegal possession of angel's trumpet, a substance that has been banned in the United Kingdom and the Republic of Ireland since the wizarding war of 1995 to 1998. This is a preliminary interrogation."

He looked up briefly as though to gauge Severus' reaction and Severus looked away. Without the Dementors, the place was less secure for those capable of wandless magic. It had grown dark out. He could barely gleam the churning, icy sea through a knothole in the concrete wall and he wondered if they were aware that he had mastered unsupported flight.

"You are also accused of fraud," said McFadgen, "seeing as you have abused the leniency bestowed on Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to buy and import school material outside of the control of the Improper Use of Magic Office, and for your own personal goals, whichever they may be. Do you understand these charges?"

Severus barely deigned a nod, making all three Aurors frown. Proudfoot stood, wand and baton in hand. "Do you understand?" repeated McFadgen.

"I do."

"The last registered use of this toxin was by Tom Marvolo Riddle," continued McFadgen, "formerly known as Lord Voldemort, who killed sixty-three muggle women, children, and men by poisoning the drinking water in the village of Little Hangleton, Yorkshire in October of 1997 with Angel's Trumpet Draught."

Severus strengthened his occlumency shields to a degree he hadn't achieved for many years. His temples throbbed. He was all too well aware of this fact.

The Aurors were watching him closely. "We take note of the testimony of one Harry James Potter as of 1998," said McFadgen, "claiming that that your allegiance during this war lay with deceased Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore."

There was a rustle of movement and he met the hard gaze of Proudfoot as she shook her head slowly, disbelievingly.

McFadgen raised his head slightly. " _However_ ," he continued, a little louder, "based on the timing of your infraction, close to the release of former Death Eaters from imprisonment, and on your service as the former Potions Master of aforementioned Riddle, we suspect that your intentions are malevolent, aimed specifically towards the muggle population." He lowered the document. "Is there anything you would like to say to us?"

"No," hissed Severus through his teeth, fighting to keep his expression impassive. He was too exposed, too naked, with their eyes fixed on him. Sitting here was worse than undressing in front of Proudfoot, almost intolerable. He felt as threatened as he had under the Dark Lord's probing gaze. An open explanation contested all his life's experience.

"You may choose not to speak," said McFadgen sternly, "however, I want you to realise that the consequences of lying are as severe as were you under oath. These are not children's games. I'll ask again. What do you have to say in your defence?"

Severus' hands clenched in his lap. "What proof have you?"

Proudfoot approached his chair. The baton in her hand swung a little with the movement. He was sure it was intentional.

"We have all the proof we need," she said. "Your home at Hogwats was searched this very afternoon by Williamson here." She nodded her head towards the Auror with the grey ponytail. "I suppose I don't have to tell you what he found?"

Severus met her gaze squarely.

"I don't know how you managed to deceive Auror Potter like you did," Proudfoot said, leaning closer, "but I want you to know that I'm aware that you have played him. _Death Eater_."

Severus scowled. "You know nothing about me."

"I don't?" She smiled sweetly. "I know you made that potion in Little Hangleton. I know you tortured students at Hogwarts during the war. I know you have a history of childhood abuse, it's all in there." She pointed at McFadgen's pile of paper. "I even know what befell your muggle father." She circled his chair and Severus had to crane his neck to keep her in his field of vision.

" _He_ killed him for you," she whispered, suddenly close by his ear. "As a gift. You hate muggles, you always have." She kicked his chair, sending a jolt up his spine, and it grated against the floor with an unpleasant sound.

"I know what you're trying to do," said Severus coldly, "you can't frighten me."

"Can't I?"

Proudfoot grasped his hair unkindly, forcing his head back so that his throat felt horribly exposed. He gave her a murderous glare in return. He didn't need her to flaunt the naked blade of her power to understand his position.

"Perhaps you just need some time in the company of your _brethren_ ," she said. "How do you think they will receive you now that you've escaped punishment for so many years? You're a traitor to them, did you know? Perhaps I should put you in Greyback's cell so that you can catch up on the old days, hm? Perhaps you'd rather explain to _him_ what you have done?"

Williamson had been sitting quietly until then, but just as Proudfoot yanked Severus' head back a second time, he stood to his feet and crossed the room to take hold of her hand. "Wait," he said and she released his hair.

Severus watched her retreat to the other side of the room.

"We only want your cooperation," said Williamson gently. "Now, Severus, your lovely female colleague with the generous hair, don't you think she'll be disappointed to learn what you have done?"

Of course she was. Severus scoffed.

"It isn't yet too late." Williamson went back to his chair and sat. "You can make amends. Cooperate with us. Tell us what you know, it's simple. If you do, we might be able to negotiate, to work something out. You do not want to spend the rest of your life in here, I'm sure."

The rest of his life would be much shorter a time than Williamson thought. Severus cleared his throat. "I need to see Potter," he said hoarsely.

They watched him in silence. For a long moment, the only sound was from the restless North Sea.

"You need to see Potter." McFadgen sighed. "On record, that won't look very good. Is this all you have to say for yourself?"

Severus clenched his jaw. "Yes."

"Very well." McFadgen closed the file with a thump and a cloud of dust. He motioned to Proudfoot.

"Put him with the other ones."

She nodded and pushed off from the wall. Wand out, she guided him out of the room and through a heavy barred gate that led into a narrow concrete corridor and to a set of stairs.

A menacing chill permeated from the dark and grimy corners, as though the Dementors' presence still lingered there. Being back reminded Severus not so much of his last trial, when he had been ill and weak, and barely alive after Nagini had nearly killed him.

He had been detached then, not really caring whether he lived or died, and he had surrendered his fate to Potter, who negotiated the pardon that had left him standing alone on the street of Cokeworth the day after, without direction or purpose. Luckily, Filius had taken pity on him, allowing him to return to Hogwarts to do the only thing he had ever known how to do.

But this time was different. This time, it was much more like the first time he had been here, for the informal interrogation that followed Karakoff's testimony in '81. He hadn't cared much about himself then either, but back then, he'd had a promise to uphold and a debt to pay. A reason to carry on.

This time, he had a reason to live.

Proudfoot lead the way up a stair that seemed to go on forever. She had chained his hands behind his back after sealing the gate that separated the interrogation area from the prison and no longer seemed concerned that he would try to escape. She was probably right. The peep-holes in the wall were too narrow to get through and the only way out was through the main entrance. It was an impermeable fortress.

There were narrow landings every so often, with small openings leading off to the hallways that contained the inmates' cells. After what seemed like an eternity, Severus stopped on one to catch his breath.

Proudfoot turned and stared down on him with a displeased frown. He was gratified to notice the sheen of sweat on her brow.

"What is it?"

Severus leaned his shoulder against the cold stone wall. He ran a hand over his mouth, feeling old and washed-out.

"Are you putting me with Fenrir?" he heard himself mutter.

Proudfoot blinked, as though the question surprised her just as much as it had him. "You afraid?" She chuckled softly. "I would if I were allowed, believe me."

He looked up at her. "But you're not?"

"No." She crossed her arms in front of her chest, wand sticking up at one side. "He'd tear you apart."

He sighed. "You truly believe I side with them then?" He watched her smooth skin and white teeth. "You're what? Twenty? Twenty-five? I must have taught you in school. Maybe even after the war. Surely you don't think…?"

"I was never in your class." Proudfoot tilted her head and gave him a haughty look. "But I was in second grade when you were _headmaster_."

"Oh…" He lowered his gaze.

"That's right." She turned her back on him. "I know your ways. I'm not surprised you don't remember me. You're a right bastard."

He wanted to tell her he was ashamed of what had happened that year, to explain that he had been handed an impossible situation, that the war had been hard on everyone. But the words were stuck somewhere between his chest and his throat.

"I don't remember them all," he whispered to the back of her feet. "The students. There must have been nearly a thousand…"

"Come along then," said Proudfoot over her shoulder. "My shift ends at nine."

When they finally reached the top floor, she stepped back and allowed him to enter first.

The corridor was narrow and lit by a single torch at the furthest end. Steel-bar gates separated the cells from the hall and Severus could hear muted shuffling from inside the closest one. Proudfoot pushed her wand into his lower back, urging him forward. He took a deep breath and stepped inside.

Steeling himself, he looked straight ahead to avoid meeting the gaze of any of the old Death Eaters. It worked out well until Porudfoot stopped him with a yank to his prison shirt. "We're here."

She smiled wickedly. Across from the cell she had indicated, Rodolphus Lestrange looked him square in the eye.

"Well, well, well… If it isn't our _old_ _friend_ …"

Severus ignored him, but upon opening the gate to his cell, Proudfoot bumped into him so that he stumbled towards the opposite wall. Rodolphus got hold his upper arm in an iron grasp.

"Forgive me for not keeping up with the news," he said, his face too close for comfort, "but I was quite certain you were dead."

Severus tried to wrench free, but Rodolphus was prepared. He managed to get a hold on Severus' hair as well. "Hey, Rab," he called, "Walden! Look who's here!"

Proudfoot slammed her baton into the bars on Rodolphus' gate, drowning out snickers from the other cells. "Behave now," she said. "Or you're never getting out of here if I can help it."

Rodolphus released him abruptly, but continued to watch them predatorily. Proudfoot shoved Severus inside the cell and released his hands.

"The loo is over there," she said, pointing to a dirty hole in the ground. "You get porridge thrice a day. Enjoy your stay."

She slammed the door shut with a heavy clank and left. Her footsteps echoed through the corridors as she disappeared down the stairs.

Severus tried to push open his gate, but predictably, it did not budge. Rodolphus laughed. "How unfair," he cackled. "How _undeserving_."

Severus watched him calmly. "At least I know where I went wrong," he said. "It seems you haven't changed at all."

Rodolphus snarled. "You betrayed the Dark Lord," he said coldly. "The guards have told us everything about you."

"The Dark Lord was a manic, raging psychopath," said Severus. He felt no immediate fear for the emaciated wraith on the other side of the bars. "You and your sorry wife were not much better. Changing sides is the finest decision of my life."

Rodolphus spat, hitting Severus' shirt form across the corridor. "When I get my hands on you," he said, eyes gleaming in the torchlight, "I'm going to kill you. Filthy traitor."

Severus wiped at his clothes. "I'd like to see you try."

"You'll regret what you did in the end." Rodolphus grinned through his dirty, lank hair. "Mark my words."

They watched each other for a moment before he picked a small piece of rock out of his pocked and started to bang it onto the steel bars. The sound echoed through the halls.

Severus turned his back on him as some of the other inmates joined in on the clamour. He retreated to the furthest shadow of his room, where he would not be visible to the others, and sat on the frayed and stained mattress that lay on the ground. He put his head in his hands.

Alone and isolated, the contrast to what he'd come close to having with Hermione became overwhelming. He thought about Rose's frightened little face and could not imagine anything in the world that had ever been so dear to him.

He felt guilty, and also sorry for himself, for being such a worthless piece of shite.

He would never be a good father to anyone; it had always been a lost cause. Lucky for Rose, she already had sane and functional family aplenty. Her real father was well adjusted and successful. She would not need him.

He wondered if he would ever get to see Hermione again. Would they even let him see Potter?

He had no idea how much time he could last in here, but chances were the wait wouldn't be all that long.

* * *

The kitchen floo at the Burrow flashed green and Hermione tumbled out in a cloud of ash. She put Rose down onto the floor and looked around.

"Molly?"

There was a noise from the lounge and Arthur's head popped in through the door.

"Oh, Hermione." He put a muggle screwdriver onto the kitchen table and went to pick up Rose. "Hello, dear." He grinned. "Isn't it a little late in the evening for you to be awake?"

"There's been a situation," said Hermione, fighting for calm. "I was hoping she could stay the night?"

"Of course." He watched her closely. "What's the matter? Is everyone all right?"

"Yes we're…" She rubbed a hand over her face. "No. No, it's not all right. Not at all."

"Tell me." Arthur guided her into a chair with a firm hand on her arm and put Rose on his lap. Hermione struggled to control her breathing.

"Where's Molly?"

"Molly is over at the Fawcetts, but she'll be back before eleven."

Hermione nodded. "I can't wait that long. Will you be all right putting her to bed?"

"Certainly. But Hermione, you have to tell me what's wrong." He frowned. "You seem distraught."

"I don't want to go to bed," said Rose in a small voice. Her tiny hands made fists around Arthur's coat. "Mum, are you leaving?"

Hermione sighed. "I'm going back to Hogwarts," she said, sharing a look with Arthur. "Someone made a terrible mistake and Severus has been arrested."

"Arrested?" Arthur's kind eyes widened. "Why?"

"He's been brewing some sort of potion," she croaked, "using illicit ingredients. And now they think he's associating with the Death Eaters."

"But that's absurd." Arthur watched her disbelievingly and she felt a wave of relief.

"I know! It _is_ absurd, but now they've taken him to Azkaban and I have this terrible feeling…" She trailed off, watching Rose as she buried her face in Arthur's chest.

The day had been hard enough on the girl as it was. Hermione chuckled weakly. "You know what he's like," she continued, a little quieter. "He isn't going to just roll over and come clean. They'll frame him and throw away the key if I don't do something."

"Mum?" Rose peeked at her with one eye.

"Yes, Sweetie?"

"Why did Sev'rus do that thing to Teddy?"

Hermione's heart sank. "I- I don't know, honey," she whispered. "I think that perhaps he was afraid…"

Rose watched her for a long moment. "Do you remember that time in Hogsmeade?" she asked quietly. "You know, when the boys at day school threw snowballs at us?"

"Yes, I do," said Hermione gently. "Why would you think of that?

"They weren't aiming after me."

"Well…that's good, isn't it?" Hermione frowned. "How do you know?"

Rose hid her face again and Hermione's gut clenched.

"They teased me about it the day after," murmured Rose. "They said that Sev'rus is a bad wizard and that someone had told them to keep away from him." She sniffled. "I thought it was _they_ who were mean…"

"Oh, no…" Hermione leaned in to brush a lock of hair from the side of her face. "Things aren't always that simple, Rose." She sighed. "People do strange things sometimes. And Severus, well, he was terribly stressed today."

Rose wiped at her nose. "Why?"

"I don't know everything yet." Hermione looked back up at Arthur. "But I'm going to find out." She stood. "Will you be all right with Grandma and Grandpa, Rose? I'll come for you tomorrow."

It was clear that Rose wasn't all right with that, but Arthur picked her up and held her while Hermione kissed her goodbye. Then, hardening her heart, she took powder from a bowl on the mantle and stepped into the floo.

"Severus Snape's rooms, Hogwarts."

A number of fireplaces flashed by in a dizzying whirl, and then she was back from where they had come.

But she was not alone, as she had expected.

" _You_ …"

Cavan turned from where he had been standing by Severus' bookshelf. He didn't seem surprised to see her.

"Yes, me."

Hermione bristled. She pulled her wand out and took a step closer to him. " _Why_?"

He blinked, as though in honest confusion.

"I'm inclined to ask the same," he said sharply. "Hermione, you've been covering for him." He threw his arms wide. "In fact, I struggle to see a reason why I shouldn't report you as well."

"What- _Me_?" She almost laughed in disbelief. " _I_ was the one who mentioned the bookkeeping record to you in the first place! You don't understand anything, do you?"

Cavan scoffed. "I daresay I understand quite a lot," he said. "Don't you know what the Dark Mark signifies?"

Hermione closed her eyes, willing herself to calm down. If she couldn't convince Cavan, she certainly couldn't convince the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Cavan," she said evenly. "Of course I know. I fought in the war with Harry and I have the scars and an Order of Merlin to prove it."

"I'm aware," said Cavan, spreading his hands, "but you're impeachable in this case, aren't you?" He watched her closely. "You love him, I know you do."

She stared in open-mothed surprise. No one -not even herself- had yet put into words what it was she was feeling.

"I…"

"It isn't a crime," said Cavan mildly, "but it muddles your thinking. He knew all along that we were searching for the culprit. Don't you think he would have come forward if his intentions weren't malign?"

"No, actually." Hermione took a deep breath. "He wouldn't."

"He wouldn't'?" Cavan snorted. "And why, exactly, is that?"

"He doesn't trust us, that's why." Hermione gestured to the room around them. "Don't you see? He was a double agent for Dumbledore, that's why he has that mark. He's always kept his secrets close to his chest, you can't expect him to break that life-long habit."

"A double agent?" He frowned. "The court knows this?"

"Yes." Hermione looked around the room impatiently. "Not everyone is convinced, I'll admit. He was also Voldemort's potion-maker and he played his part well. But he gifted Harry some of his memories when he thought he was going to die from Nagini's bite. Harry hated Severus before, but those memories, they made him change his mind completely. Even Voldemort knew the truth in the end."

"He was bitten by Voldemort's snake? Is that what those scars are?" Cavan rubbed a hand over his brow. "Nevertheless, how can you be so certain?"

"Because I _know_ him." Hermione huffed. "And because I'm going to find proof, right here and now." She made a movement with her wand. "Don't you dare get in my way, Cavan, because I won't be gentle if you do."

She turned her back on him resolutely and walked over to the kitchen cabinets. She started with the bottom drawers, going through Severus' collection of tea and biscuits, his sparse cutlery, the stirring rods and ladles, and the stacks of clean cauldrons he kept in his cupboard.

After some time, she felt a presence by her side.

"They've been pretty thorough." Cavan bent down to look beneath the small sink. "Don't you think he'd keep incriminating evidence in his bedroom rather than here?"

"No." Hermione straightened to look through the upper cupboards, which mostly seemed to contain cups and saucers. "This is where he brews." She glanced at him sideways. "Can you check for invisibility charms?"

"Yes." Cavan flicked his wand. "The Aurors would know how to do that just as well as I do though." There was a clatter of metal from down in his cupboard. "There's nothing here," he said. "What are we looking for?"

"Everything potion-related." Hermione turned to the small shelf behind her back, where Severus kept an assortment of ingredients. They appeared common enough on a first glance. "Vials," she murmured, "flagons, anything that seems experimental."

There were several flasks of a substance that wasn't labelled on the shelf and she opened one to sniff it. It smelled like a regular Pepper-Up.

"These are just clean cauldrons," said Cavan. He straightened from beneath the sink. "I'll go through the bedroom. If he has anything dangerous in here, I'm sure he'd keep it somewhere Rose can't accidentally find it."

"You're probably right." Hermione sighed. She felt a pang of disappointment along with a creeping desperation. "I was so sure…"

"The Aurors are very skilled at this," said Cavan. "They would have taken all the evidence they could find. Don't you think it's better that he explains himself directly to them? I trust they'll see reason if he tells them what he's done. Keeping forbidden ingredients for benign experiments warrants a fine, of course, but it hardly justifies imprisonment..."

"Wait a moment." Hermione turned on her heel. "You said those were clean?"

She bent down to the cupboard beneath the sink, which Cavan had just vacated.

"Yes…" He frowned. "I think so, they-"

"No." Hermione extracted a pile of cauldrons. "The clean ones are in that drawer. These ones are used."

Cavan joined her on the floor. "You're right." He picked up a battered half-pint pewter. "Looks like he brewed Pepper-Up." He frowned. "A lot of it…"

"This isn't Pepper-Up." Hermione pointed at the barely-visible crust on the rim. "See that? The shimmer is from unicorn hairs."

"Okay..." Cavan scratched his head. "So he's tweaked it. I'm not surprised, he seems critical of the established recipes."

"Wait." Hermione jumped to her feet and extracted one of the vials from the shelf behind them. She poured some of it into the used cauldron.

"Isn't Pepper-Up supposed to be orange?" asked Cavan uncertainly. "It seems a shade too red…"

"Like a Blood-Replenisher." Hermione met his eyes. "Do you think it's an antidote?"

"Against what poison?" Cavan shook his head. "Angel's trumpet? But why would he put Pepper-Up in there?"

"Poison." Hermione's lips went numb. "Nagini..."

Was this what he had wanted to say to her? She had suspected, but the realisation was like a rough, physical blow. The last thing she had done was to yell at him, and to accuse and scold him. And now he was all alone in Azkaban with no more potion to help him.

He needed her now more than ever.

"Wait, Hermione!" Cavan grasped her arm as she attempted to jump to her feet. "Explain!"

"Angel's trumpet is a nerve agent," she said quickly, pointing at the rust-coloured substance. "Don't you see? This is an antidote against Nagini's poison. It counters nerve damage and blood poisoning. The Pepper-Up is just a disguise."

Cavan watched her intently. "So then he did use it for himself?"

Hermione couldn't help it. "I told you so," she said scathingly. "Severus would _never_ -"

Cavan broke her off. "I realise that now," he said. "But what do we do? If he has already explained himself to the Aurors, and if they haven't released him, it probably means he needs a witness. Someone with the skills of a potioneer or a healer, like you. Shouldn't we contact the Ministry?"

"No."

"What?" asked Cavan sharply, but Hermione took no heed. She was already on her way to the floo, sprinting the short distance.

"Harry..."


End file.
